Resurrection
by RECKLESS SOLDIER-MS
Summary: Killing the Archdemon was supposed to be it for him, except the Maker or whatever gods he doesn't believe in have other plans for him. Awakening ten years after his final battle, Amell finds a world on the brink with fire literally raining from the sky. Determined to put an end to the chaos Daylen chooses to fight, whether the Inquisition accepts him or not.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age

Completed Dragon Age Inquisition last month, have been playing through again and reading Inquisition stories across the site and this very idea has been forming in my head ever since I started playing the game on its release date. I've been a fan of Dragon Age since Origins, I particularly liked the Warden's story. This story wasn't really inspired by anything I've read on the site or anything I've heard on the internet, it just came from my own head. There may be one or two Warden as the Inquisitor stories or warden in the Inquisition stories but this is something I'm hoping is new, and I hope you all enjoy it.

The premise is that the Warden died during his confrontation with the Archdemon. Or he at least should have died :)

* * *

Resurrection

Chapter 1: The fade itself

_"Let the blade pass through the flesh,"_

_"Let my blood touch the ground,"_

_"Let my cries touch their hearts, let mine be the last sacrifice."_

'Religion, great,' he felt like throwing up, or hitting himself.

He was disgusted, a moment of fear was all it took for him to fall back on religion. For as much as he hated religion, he couldn't help liking that quote. He of course couldn't remember the exact page or verse, anything the chant said however was something he could recall. His interest in that quote applied perfectly to his situation, to the moment, **his** moment. There had been moments before of course, moments in which he had to make a choice, yet this was the most important of them all. One could say there was no choice, no alternative, he didn't see it that way, there were always other ways. He wanted to find a way, a way where everyone lives. A laugh escaped his lips as he stood, his armoured boots clacking against the stone.

'This is it,' he thought as he stepped forward.

His gloved hands wrapped themselves around the hilt of the sword. He yanked the blade out of the ground and looked towards what he shared this moment with. It was terrifying before, but burns, scratches and tears across its skin made it seem less demonic. But there was still that primal defiance in its eyes, like a wounded animal. Their eyes seemed to meet and he could see it, a subtle hint of humanity within its eyes, a human emotion of hatred. This monster was alive, it had a cruel will, part of it wanted to kill him and another part wanted him to kill it, so they could drag one another to whatever afterlife awaited them.

'And Morrigan wanted to save it,' he chuckled slightly as he began walking towards the beast.

He remembered someone that until that moment he would have claimed to love. She was wild in both her spirit and upbringing, yet there was more to her than the wild apostate others would have called her. Morrigan was someone of both physical beauty and had the potential at least to do beautiful things, to perform acts of wisdom and kindness. Yet she was guided by a principal he could never bring himself to follow, survival of the fittest. To him it meant the strong trampling on the weak, the rich gaining more over the poor, the powerful ruling the powerless and the hopeful abandoning the hopeless. He despised such a notion, any child they had together would not have been the pure old god she wanted.

"No," he had said to her offer, she begged and pleaded yet still he rejected her.

Perhaps she did love him, but he no longer loved her. He kept moving forward, dragging the sword across the taint stained stone. The voices behind him became mere blurs as he rushed forward, raising his sword high. Out of the corner of his eye he saw two Hurlocks approach him. The bestial creatures were the darkspawn, the very monsters he had spent the past year fighting. He blocked their attacks and crashed his sword down on one. Immediately pulling the blade free, he stabbed the other one through the chest. Then he pulled the blade free, snapping it in half.

"Damn it," he muttered, throwing the useless blade aside and pulling a knife out of his gauntlet, "Thanks for the final gift Zev," he continued walking towards the archdemon.

It opened its mouth and released a blast of purple fire. He immediately cross his arms together. But instead of causing pain or burning his flesh, the flames twisted around him, he manipulated the flames. A red haired beauty crawled out of the rubble left by the Archdemon's fall, she looked towards the youth and gasped, astonished by the power he wielded. She knew he was a mage of the circle, but she thought he was restrained, his power only allowed to grow under the limit the templars set. Yet seeing him now, she could see he had grown beyond the limits of the chantry both in terms of his magic and his status. He had gathered armies, changed tribes, kingdoms and nations, he had made history throughout Thedas. At that moment he was more than what she envisioned he would be. Surrounded by the Archdemon's fire, yet untouched by its evil he moved forward, manipulating the flame until it passed through his knife.

"LELIANA!"

She looked to her left and glared slightly, there was a man he should have beaten down or killed. Though Loghain had been defeated in both politics, morality and combat, his successor lifted him up into the ranks of the grey wardens, at the expense of the presence of Alistair, his warden brother and best friend. Loghain's leg was broken by a Genlock mace, so he had to lean on a sword for support.

"STOP HIM NOW!" he yelled.

Leliana turned towards Loghain, looking at him in confusion.

"You have to stop him now, or he'll die," Loghain said.

She then looked towards the man she had followed, the man she had grown to love. He began stabbing at the Archdemon's neck, ripping away pieces of its scales so her could gain access to his arteries. Like a beast he growled, standing his ground and avoiding the Archdemon's futile attemps to knock him off balance. Leliana saw in his eyes regret and desperation, he was desperate to the be the one to end it.

"No," she whispered, running towards him.

"PLEASE STOP!" Loghain yelled.

"NO MORE!" Leliana screamed.

"RAAAAAGH!" he let out one final roar as his blade pierced the creature's arteries.

He felt an immense pain throughout his body as he was surrounded by an incredible light. Loghain and Leliana stood the closest to both the climax of the battle, and its horrifying truth. Others such as Arl Teagon, looked up and saw hope, they saw a hero's victory. Loghain and Leliana saw the sacrifice of a hero, the death of the friend. Leliana fell to her knees and yelled out that friend's name.

"DAYLEN!"

* * *

'What happened?' he asked himself.

The last thing he remembered was agony, then nothingness. Now he felt more confused than he had ever been in his life. He looked at his surroundings and saw what he saw when he first began his first and last great journey. The fade was a place shaped by the thoughts and dreams of those whom lived in the waking world. It was the place of dreams, where spirits born of emotions both pure and horrid dwelled. His dreams were of both the horrid and the pure, thus the fade was no desolate hell or pure hall. To him the fade was darkness and light intermingled, he walked in an empty world lit by a light that seemed like it had come from a moon. Drifting past him were wisps, represented by flames of differing colours all dependent on the emotion they could one day become. He took a step forward and his feet touched autumn grass. A wind cooled his skin and drew his eyes to a great stone pillar. At the top of that pillar he saw a bright light.

'Is this the peace and paradise that Leliana dreamed of, or is it what Morrigan imagined of the afterlife? Pure nothingness?' every step he took yielded but another question.

He touched his chest, trying to feel the beat of a heart. It was slow, yet he was afraid, uncertainty had consumed him yet his heart remained calm. The very pace of the beats seemed dull, as if he was on the edge of death. Yet his vision was clear, his skin still had its colour and he could still move. He was walking towards the grand pillar, yet as he walked further and further the scenery shifted around him. Voices echoed within the pure darkness that surrounded him.

_"Revka you fool, how could you dally with that man, you are noble born I will not have you marry someone who can offer our family nothing!"_

_"What of love brother? Revka is my daughter and I will always love her, did you love him my dear?"_

_"Yes father, with all my heart, I am having his child."_

_"Then know that you will always have a home, no matter what happens."_

_"Fausten you fool, the father offers nothing that can advance our family, you are too idealistic, you must guide your children and your grandchild down the proper path."_

_"Brother...do you truly think the pressure you put on Leandra and Gamlen makes them better, that they will follow the path you dictate without question? If they don't will you cease loving them? If so then you will die alone my poor brother, my grand child will have my love and respect for whatever dream they seek out...it's called having faith brother, something that extends to more than just prayers in some grand hall."_

"Grandfather," he gasped.

He saw the fade shift before his very eyes, watched it turn into a grand garden. In that garden he saw a boy, probably just two years old with lightly tanned skin and brown hair. He walked (barely) with his mother a black haired woman whose only trait he had was her blue eyes. An older man walked away from one of the pillars, he too had the woman's skin, hair and eyes. They were family and they were happy. The boy smiled and he smiled too, remembering a better time. Another dark haired woman walked into the garden, slightly younger than the boy's mother. She knelt and rubbed the boy's messy brown hair.

"Cousin, Leandra," he identified the woman and walked closer towards her.

He passed through her and in an instant he saw images of her meeting a dark haired man, scruffily dressed unlike her. Yet he could feel a deep love between them. The moment passed and he returned to the garden. But he didn't watch the happy boy this time. Instead he looked at his grandfather Fausten and someone he could only assume was his uncle, judging from his similarities to his mother.

_"The viscount is finally gone, Uncle Aristide will finally rise as ruler of the city, this is a moment in which we can't afford to appear weak_ _or tainted."_

_"Speak carefully Damion, or else I may not pay back the debt you've likely gained in Starkhaven, your sister hasn't seen you for years, you should be happy for her and the family."_

_"Happy? I find out from rumours that my sister is pregnant and I come back to find something that doesn't even look like our family, who was the father?"_

_"Someone your sister loved but whom had no interest in bringing up a child, a traveller, possibly Rivaini or Tevinter, it matters not, he is a child of an Amell, the tone of his skin and the colour of his hair shouldn't matter."_

_"It matters father, uncle Aristide searches for a noble family for which we could integrate, what will be said if we raise a child from a lower bloodline?"_

_"I have already had this conversation with my brother, I will not have it with you, have I made myself clear?"_

_"If his father was of Tevinter then you know what that means father, would you leave our family's fortune, the protection and guidance of my children and Leandra's to a...a...TAINTED BASTARD!"  
_

_"ENOUGH!"_

Darkness appeared around him again, and instead he heard voices different from his uncle and grandfather. They were still familiar voices to him.

_"He was sent from Kirkwall, the Knight-Commander approved it, much to the Lieutenants outrage."_

_"I dread the day Stannard becomes Knight-Commander. But at such a young age, to use blood magic without any prior knowledge and in such a way...incredible."_

_"The boy has potential true, but those eyes of his, blood magic has changed him...but I am not as fearful as the clerics let us see how he does before we choose to judge him."_

_"Indeed, what is his name Greigor?"_

_"Daylen, Daylen Amell!"_

"I am...Daylen Amell," he whispered.

Daylen looked upon his younger self, a boy whose red eyes spoke of his depression. The image changed, turning into a thinner version of himself in apprentice robes, there was a slight smile across his face. Again the image changed and he turned into a man in grey warden mage gear.

"You liked this better than the circle didn't you?" his mirror image asked him. "THIS IMAGE SUITS YOU BETTER!"

Whatever his clone was, his voice had taken on a deep and darker pitch. One could only call it demonic and inhuman. It displayed inhuman strength too, lifting Daylen up and slamming him against a wall. The scene shifted and Daylen widened his eyes, he was at Ostagar again, the night before the Ferelden grey wardens were massacred. He looked upon someone who he thought was a great man, walking towards someone who just wanted to go home.

"You ask too much," Ser Jory said.

"There is no going back," Duncan said.

He gasped as Duncan stabbed Jory in the chest. His clone smirked and replaced Duncan with himself.

"I think that would have suited you very well," he said.

He threw Daylen across the ground and again the scene shifted. Daylen rose to his feet and widened his eyes as he looked upon templars cutting through abominations and mages alike. He turned and looked towards a table, two mage children were hiding underneath it. Daylen frowned as a templar walked towards them with his sword drawn. The young man moved to intercept the knight, but much to his shock he passed through the children. His head shook frantically as the knight pulled one of the boys up and ran his sword through his chest.

"You were free of the circle, then you went back, you did more damage than good," his copy said.

"That isn't how it happened," Daylen said.

"Nonsense, you sacrificed didn't you?"

"Yes, I died, that's how it happened," he retorted.

"Then how are you here, why do you still feel so afraid?" the copy asked.

With a click of his fingers the scene shifted again. He found himself in a grand city falling apart, flames spreading through the streets, blood spraying across the walls. The victims were small, dwarves of Orzammar. Marked, casteless dwarves smashed a door open and ran towards the throne of an old king.

"Harrowmont, no, he wasn't who I..." Daylen suddenly felt an immense pain in his head.

He fell to his knees and yelled, feeling his body shrink and his armour shatter. His gauntlets fell apart, replaced by the scratched fingers of a five year old. Long, dirty and uncomfortable robes draped over his body as he began to cry. His voice croaked and its pitch increased.

"Why, why am I here?" he asked. "Why did mother send me away? What did I do wrong? Why is the world so cruel? Why can't I just leave it? Why can't I die?"

"Hush now," a soft, accented voice spoke.

Leliana walked towards him, wearing the chantry robe he first met her in.

"Your purpose is clear now isn't it? You have fulfilled your purpose," Sten said, striding beside Leliana in his armour.

"We'll take care of you," said Wynn.

"We'll guide you to paradise," Zevran said.

They gathered around him, Leliana stroking his head and Zevran patting his back. There was a moment when the child felt comforted, safe, happy.

"You deserve it my friend, do not concern yourself with the future," said Alistair, pushing Sten and Wynn aside and patting Daylen's head.

Daylen looked at Alistair's hand, he had it extended as if to offer him something. There was a moment every mage had, when he was tempted to accept the offer he had been given. He had more cause than most to just give up, to let whatever world he was in swallow him. But he was distracted, his attention drawn to a light in the distance, he could barely see it with Alistair in front of him. Instead of taking the man's hand he slapped it aside and looked towards the light, it was frantically flying towards a hill of some kind, like a firefly it was drawn to an even bigger light.

"What is...light, hope," Daylen whispered.

"What's that my friend?" Alistair asked.

"Light, hope...you aren't Alistair," he snarled. "NONE OF YOU ARE MY FRIENDS!"

He screamed, releasing a fire from his body that incinerated the visions. His copy moved back, his neck and limbs twisting as his form began to change. The Envy demon revealed itself, screaming as the boy began walking through the flames.

"Mother and grandfather did send me away, and every day I looked for a reason, I prayed to the maker for a reason but was met only with silence...I don't look for purpose in god." he explained.

_"She's more 'oooh pretty colours', not 'mwahaha, I'm princess stabbity, stab, stab kill, kill."_

_"Ha, Ha, it may as well be."_

_"A drink from my own stash, my family's recipe dedicated to my comrades in arms."_

_"Kadan!"_

_"There is a strength in you I have not yet seen since Maric died."_

_"I care for you...more deeply than I can say, but...I can't watch you going to her all the time."_

_"I will not allow you to throw away your life like this, this will work and it will save your life!"_

He smiled upon hearing the voices in the flames, they burnt away his circle robes.

"My friends, every bond I made in that journey lifted me up more than some promise of power could, it wasn't results or promises that guided me, it was the presence of my friends, to understand me Envy demon, to **be **me you have to know more than just friendship and a few stories, let me summarise it for you," he began as he grew, from a hurt and scared boy to a man strengthened by his experience and scars. "I saved the circle, I stopped the templars from killing any innocents that day. I put on the throne of Orzammar a king who could lead it into the modern age, not a relic who would drown it in tradition. I despised Duncan's sacrifice, I despised Morrigan's offer of help, whenever I had to sacrifice I made the sacrifice my own!

The flames swirled around him, shaping his black and gold armour. Every tear in his suit, every missing piece of his armour was intact. He came back exactly as he was when he died. Except he denied death, he denied whatever existence he had been reverted to. But more importantly he denied the demons and spirits of the fade.

"I am Daylen Amell, a son of Kirkwall's nobility, a mage of the circle, a grey warden, when I am strong I protect the weak, when I am rich I give to those who don't have riches, when I am powerful I help the powerless, when I have hope I lift up the hopeless. That's what it means to be who I am, what I try to be," he smashed his fists together, igniting fire through the claws of his left gauntlet and electricity through the fingers of his right glove.

The Envy demon screamed, its claws glowing as it flung itself at Daylen. He leant back, dodging the demons claws. It bent its limbs and adjusted its position, trying to confuse Daylen. But the young mage slammed his fist into the ground, creating an earth spell that cracked the ground beneath him, trapping the demon. He jumped over the rocks, kicking the top of the demon's head and launching himself down the hill, towards the lights in the distance. As he skidded down the hill he caught a look at what the light was running from. He could only describe it with three words:

"Big fucking spider!"

It was bigger than a dragon that much Daylen could say, and it looked like it was infected with the blight too. He focused less on that and more on the smaller spiders rushing past its legs. Daylen had encountered giant spiders before, they were fast and deadly even to people who weren't afraid of them. When the sparking light fell he began sprinting, charging a spell as he moved. He shot a fireball into the air, creating smaller fireballs that rained down on the spiders that approached the fallen man. Now closer to his target, Daylen could see exactly who needed his help. His first experience with Qunari had been with Sten, someone he had come to know as a good friend. Seeing a Qunari with horns was a surprise for him even though he knew most Qunari did have horns he hadn't met any Tal-Vashoth with horns. The Qunari lying on the floor was dressed in a green uniform with steel shoulder guards, something Daylen had seen most common mercenaries or sell swords wear. He lacked a glove on his left hand, which exposed revealed the sparking light Daylen had seen in the distance. It was a mark of some kind, Daylen couldn't make out what it looked like because of the light, it leaked out of the hand like blood.

The man himself had skin like bronze, a tan much like a Rivaini. He was tall as seemed common in Qunari, probably shorter than Sten by just an inch. When Daylen turned his head over he saw a youth in the Qunari's face he hadn't seen in Sten's. He seemed to be either in his early thirties or late twenties, older than himself at twenty two. The young Qunari had straight silver hair that rested on his shoulders, he lacked a fringe because of the growths on his forehead. Two long and slightly curved horns protruded from his forehead and stretched past the back of his head. Despite his obvious muscle weight, Daylen wasted no time in grabbing the man's hand and carrying him over his shoulder. He began walking up the hill, taking glances every few seconds to see how close the spiders were getting. Sweat ran down his face, both out of fatigued and fear as the spiders drew closer. He looked up and saw the light of what he could only describe and hope was a gateway. At the top of the hill, looking down at them was a woman in Chantry robes, though they seemed fancier, white with not a single crease of excess cloth.

'Why does she seem so familiar?' Daylen wondered.

He couldn't quite place it but he got the feeling that they had met before. Throwing the curiosity aside Daylen quickened his pace, taking one step after another higher, stopping only to adjust his grip on the Qunari. He could hear some kind of screaming behind him, the cries of nightmare demons. But he ignored those screams and kept climbing, kicking the spiders beneath him. When the hill got steeper, like a cliff, Daylen hooked the Qunari's arm around his neck and bit his sleeve. With his hands free he climbed faster, but didn't leave the man behind him. He felt the Qunari's weight strain his neck but he kept pulling him back up. When he was within range of the priest he grabbed the Qunari's arm and passed him to her. She grabbed the Qunari's left hand, ignoring the surging light on it and pulled him up. Daylen turned and launched a fireball at one of the spiders, knocking it into the ones behind it.

"The demon," the priest cried.

"GET TO THE PORTAL NOW!" Daylen yelled.

The Chantry priest grabbed the edge of his shoulder guards and began pulling him up. Daylen didn't fight her, he was glad she was someone willing to help others. He looked down at the Qunari as he began to regain consciousness.

"What's going on here?" he asked.

"I'm about as lost as you, we need to take that portal and get out of here," Daylen said.

"He needs a few minutes to recover, if you really are who I think you are please help us," the priest said.

"I'll carry him, we'll be right behind you!"

The Chantry priest took a step forward, only for something to lift her off of the ground. She let out a shrill shriek as she started flying towards the ledge. Daylen grabbed the woman's hand and dug the claws of his gauntlet into the dirt. He looked at the creature behind the priest. It reminded him somewhat of a darkspawn emissary, but it had spider legs on its back and even on its face. The priest looked at Daylen, watching him desperately cling to the ground. Their eyes met and the woman shook her head. She tried to peel Daylen's fingers away, but he kept a tight hold.

"What are you doing?" Daylen asked.

"Go please," she said.

"No, I can still get you out of here," he snarled.

She opened his hand with both hers and smiled at him. Then she let go!

"NO!" Daylen yelled.

The priest said nothing, she didn't even scream as she was flown away from the hill. Daylen squeezed his hands into fists and yelled. He threw his hands forward, spraying flames over the spiders that climbed onto the ledge. His roar and the fires of his magic were like that of a dragon. The remains of spiders twitched in front of him and he wiped the tears from his eyes, caring not that the metallic tips of his gloves singed his skin. He turned to the Qunari, who seemed to be in a comatose state. Grabbing the Qunari's arm he lifted him off of the floor and carried him to the portal. The sparking of the Qunari's mark grew more furious the closer they go to the portal, but Daylen didn't care.

"Any place is better than here," he said.

The pair went through the portal and touched ground that felt natural, felt air that seemed natural. Daylen himself sighed in both relief and pleasure. The cool air and the snow felt good. He lowered the Qunari gently onto the ground and extended his hand. The specks of snow gathered into his palm. He stared at the flakes as people in armour rushed towards him and the Qunari. The portal closed behind them, coincidentally just as the soldiers arrived. They seemed to be soldiers, their armour was light and not as heavy as traditional Ferelden armour. Daylen looked at the flakes gathering in his hands. He then sniffed them and widened his eyes in shock.

"Ashes, these are ashes, what happened here?" he asked the nearest soldier.

"We ask the questions here," the soldier said.

Daylen could see that the man was nervous, torn between him and the wounded Qunari.

"This region, are we anywhere near the village of Haven or the temple of sacred ashes, are you with Brother Genitivi?" he asked.

"What, brother Genitivi? No, we're part of the Chantry's forces, here to investigate the incident at the conclave," one of the soldiers said.

"Conclave? Were Anora and Alistair meeting with Chantry officials? Was it about the temple's discovery?"

The soldiers traded suspicious glances with one another. They looked at Daylen, taking in his appearance as their hands were drawn to their weapons. Daylen stepped back slightly, looking up at the sky. He gasped, seeing something that was both astonishing and terrifying at the same time. The sky was clear, no cloud gathered at the peak of the mountain but it had taken on a green colour. Every cloud swirled around a grand portal, bigger than any Daylen had seen before. It was a tear in the sky, a breach of the veil.

"You," he turned to one of the oldest soldiers, the one who seemed to be in charge. "What year is it?" he asked.

Again the soldiers looked at him as if he was odd. The senior soldier shook his head as he looked at Daylen.

"9:41 dragon," he said.

Daylen was at a loss for words. He turned away from the soldiers, rubbing the sweat off of his face. For a moment he considered denying it, calling the men liars. Ten years had passed since he killed the Archdemon, or so they claimed. A sudden scream tore Daylen away from his concerns. The men quickly drew their swords, fumbling slightly, indicating an inexperience or perhaps a fear that drove them to make mistakes. Daylen looked at the Qunari in their care and then towards the tree line. He could already see wraiths, green ghost like creatures and terror demons. Their screams were paralysing the soldiers with fear.

"If you have a camp get that man to it now, that mark on his hand might be connected to the breach, which makes protecting him your top priority, don't worry about the rest of your comrades," Daylen explained.

"Wait, where do you think you're going?" one of the soldiers asked.

Mana glowed around Daylen's hands as he began walking forward.

"To wherever the fighting's thickest, and to wherever I'm needed most," he said.

He broke off into a run, firing blasts of magic into the demons emerging from the forest. He slid underneath a fear demon, avoiding its claws and pelting it with a fire spell. Daylen jumped to his feet and dived to the side, shards of ice pierced through the back of the fear demon. The grey warden threw a fireball into the despair demon's ice blast. It stood no chance against the flame. Clicking the cricks out of his neck and passing electricity through his gloves, Daylen jumped out of the forest, landing on a shade. He grabbed the sides of the creature's head, shocking it with electricity until it died. Daylen gracefully rolled when the demon hit the ground and moved towards a wrath demon. The monster had its arm raised, ready to finish a grounded soldier off. Daylen however touched the back of the demon's head, freezing it solid with ice. Then he pulled his hand back and smashed its head open. Daylen threw two shades back with a mind blast and dived to avoid a fear demon's claws. He rolled onto his feet and jumped back as a portal appeared beneath him. The fear demon's claws brushed again Daylen's chin, but did no significant damage. Daylen blasted the demon with fire and jumped over it as it burned. He ran as fast as he could across the field, over the bodies of demons and humans alike. On that field he saw breaches, portals that hung meters above the ground and spat out wraiths and shades.

"Ten years, and this is what I find, what the hell happened?" he wondered.

Daylen slammed his foot into the handle of a sword. He grabbed the blade and rushed towards the portal. The blade glowed orange as he swung it forward, easily slicing apart the demons that faced him. But he didn't stop there, he dragged the blade across the ground as he ran into another set of trees. With every swing of his sword he cut apart a demon before it could kill or even attack the Chantry soldiers. Suddenly, and much to Daylen's embarrassment he caught his leg on a thick root and fell. He rolled down a hill, hitting and clinging onto a log. His sword flew through the air, imbedding itself within the head of a pride demon.

"That was lucky," Daylen muttered.

He got off the floor, only to trip again and begin sliding down the hill, cracked leaves and ash coating his armour and clothes. The young man grunted in pain as his forehead struck a tree branch, it had moved too fast for him to grab. When he reached the bottom of the hill he screamed, as he was launched over a crevice.

"MAKER IF I SURVIVE THIS I SWEAR I'LL BELIEVE IN YOU!" the mage yelled.

He hit a tree branch belly first, then flipped and hit another branch. Daylen grinned as he grabbed the third branch, only for a green fireball to strike the bottom of the tree.

"DAMN IT MAKER!" he yelled as the tree toppled.

He let go of the branch and rolled out of the tree's landing zone. Finally he had a moment to sigh in relief. He blinked as he saw an object in the sky, it was heading straight towards him. Daylen jumped to his feet and ran as fast as he could. Green fireballs hailed over the region behind him. Again he slid down a hill, landing this time on a road of some kind. When Daylen rose to his feet he screamed. A burnt husk stood before him, frozen in whatever helpless pose he or she had been in before Armageddon struck. In fact Daylen looked at the area around him, and much to his surprise found it to be mostly a charred wasteland. Some pieces of stone remained from where buildings once stood. Scattered around Daylen could see blackened shields and staffs. He picked up one of the shields and rubbed the soot off of it.

"Templars," he recognised the flaming sword pattern even if it was fading.

Dropping the shield, Daylen at the path ahead, he could hear fighting in the distance and knew he had to be a part of it. He run up the path, knowing that even though it was closer to the breach it would be a place he could help. The sounds of fighting grew louder and louder the closer Daylen got. When he reached the end of the path he looked upon what must have been the epicentre of the blast. He stopped a moment to look at the people fighting, their numbers had been whittled down by the demons. At this point the soldiers were simply desperate to survive, staying close to their commander. He stood with his troops, something Daylen admired, the man himself had better armour than the others. Much of it was concealed by his coat and the furs he wore. He covered his face with a gold helmet, decorated with a dark mane, resembling the lions Daylen had read about in the circle.

"Hold the line men, help will come soon," the man said.

'That voice, it couldn't be,' again Daylen gained a sense of familiarity.

Reappearing in Haven was mere coincidence, meeting someone he knew would have been another coincidence. If there were any more coincidences then Leliana's theory on destiny existing would be true.

'Not ready to admit that yet,' Daylen thought.

He jumped into the fight, surprising the soldiers as much as the demons. His arrival renewed the morale of the soldiers and they fought harder. Blades pierced through demonic flesh, fire and lightning melted them and arrows swarmed into the remaining demons. Daylen summoned a lightning storm, destroying a group of demons infront of him. When the storm passed and the last demon was dead Daylen finally fell to his knees. He let out deep breaths, exhausted from his run and the amount of mana he had used.

"Commander, more demons may be on their way, now may be a good time to retreat," one of the soldiers said.

"No, not yet, we need to hold the line until Seeker Pentaghast gets here with reinforcements," the commander explained.

Daylen rose from the ground and looked towards the commander. The man removed his helmet, revealing a face Daylen was sure he wouldn't see again. There were lines from aging across his skin as well as some old facial scars. But the man had changed very little, Daylen remembered meeting him at the circle, and particularly his look of hatred. Cullen glared as he approached Daylen.

"Cullen, what happened here where are the templars?" Daylen asked.

"Silence demon," the templar snarled.

The grey warden widened his eyes, which were drawn to the tip of Cullen's sword, aimed right at his face. Daylen backed away, more in shock than actual fear. He looked up at the sky, the breach had grown bigger since he last looked at it. His hands shook and his shoulders slumped. For a moment despair lingered over him, but then he was consumed by a need, a need that was greater than his confusion and curiosity over his return. He needed to know what had happened in the past ten years? What had happened to put the world on the brink like this?

Next Chapter 2: Durad Adaar

* * *

I hope everyone enjoyed the first chapter, and that you like the concept. The answer to the question how is Daylen alive and why has he appeared ten years later should be obvious...read and find out :)

I based Daylen Amell's look on Talon from the Batman vs. Robin movie, making him look different from most members of the Amell family. Him having red eyes I added as an effect of using blood magic.

Next chapter introduces the Inquisitor, the creation of 00virtuezero (whose been reviewing my ideas over the past few months) Durad Adaar.

Also as amazing as I found Inquisition I was a little disappointed to discover that the elder one was just the villain from Legacy (not that he wasn't a good villain), so along with the Elder one I will be introducing another antagonist who will be a rival to Daylen, the Inquisition and Corypheus. This also wont be a scene by scene novelisation of the Inquisition with just Daylen added in, his presence and the presence of the secondary antagonist will change things. Tell me what you thought of the first chapter please.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age

Back with another update, this one introducing the Herald/Inquisitor, Durad Adaar is the creation of 00virtuezero, generously given to me so credit to his general personality and design goes to him, 00 also did some structural tweaks to this chapter too.

* * *

Resurrection

Chapter 2: Durad Adaar

Pain, that was what he felt, pain in his left hand as if he was being stabbed again and again. Or that was at least how he imagined the pain was. As a mercenary he only took jobs that Shakrakar felt were easy, that could pay good money. There were two kinds of jobs that paid the kind of coin the Valos-Kas mercenaries would take; suicide missions in the Deeproads and guard duty for royalty. The Chantry paid as much money as kings and queens and Durad wasn't ashamed to admit he liked the possibility of an easy job. Covering security at the Divine's Conclave was supposed to be that bit of easy money, even though he was praying the meeting between Mages and Templars would go badly. War was good for money after all, the world would keep spinning and coin would keep coming out of people's pockets even if demons were on the loose. Durad could only assume that something had gone horribly wrong.

'Why else would I be in pain, with a strange mark on me, chained and wondering what the hell's going on? Except for when someone's put something in my drink,' Duraad chuckled slightly, shaking his head as the pain surged through his hand.

He was in a very dark room, which was only a slightly better comfort to him that his last memory. That felt like a dream, a dark hellish world with a being of pure light carrying him out. Durad had only had dreams like that when he had too much to drink and had eaten very exotic herbs. The prison cell (he could see the bars behind his armed guards) was a much better situation, and his potential saviours were much better to look at. He saw them enter, both seemingly bickering amongst themselves. The woman in front had an aggressive stride and a frown across her face. Her body language told Durad that she wanted to kill someone, probably him for whatever reason she had.

The armour she wore was Chantry make, her breast plate decorated by the burning eye of the Seekers. She had short black hair and scars on her face, she was definitely a fighter and Durad didn't need to see the sword on her belt to confirm that. Her companion seemed to be her opposite, longer hair (red much to Durad's delight) no scars across her face, though she obscured it slightly with her hood. She wore black and silver clothing, practical clothes so she was definitely a fighter too but nimble, a last resort fighter judging from her calm facial features.

'Both beautiful in their own way, no pointed ears but do they have...'

"Tell me why we shouldn't kill you now?" the short haired woman asked.

'Aha, Orlesian accents, bingo,' Durad however could detect a subtle Nevarran tone in her voice.

"The conclave is destroyed, everyone who attended is dead, except for you," she said.

"That makes me one of the luckiest men alive, I usually have to have a few drinks before women get me in chains," Durad grinned.

The short haired woman crouched in front of Durad, just low enough to get a grip of his hand, to bring it up to his eyes and show off the glowing green mark.

"Where did you get this?" she asked.

"I don't know what that is and how it got there, if I was going for a tattoo I would have gotten something along the lines of what the Hero of Ferelden had, the badass mark around the eye," Durad explained.

The woman was clearly taken aback by Durad's sense of humor. Of course Durad knew that the hero of Ferelden never actually had a tattoo. The numerous stories about him also included rumoured descriptions, the most popular being he was a white skinned male with shaved hair and a strong voice. Durad didn't believe the stories, but he doubted these chantry women didn't. The chantry had a habit of altering history to fit its religion. So Durad wasn't surprised that when something bad happened to the conclave he would be blamed. He was surprised he hadn't been executed by now, though he wasn't complaining.

"Cassandra, we need him," he heard the red head whisper to his interrogator.

'The voice of reason, maybe I can appeal,' "Whatever you think I did, I'm innocent, unless it had something to do with a chantry sister, ropes and a bottle of Antivan brandy, don't worry...she didn't need the ropes...or the brandy, 'vows of chastity' my ass," Durad grinned as the short haired Neverran 'Cassandra' glared at him.

"What do you remember about the conclave, about what happened?" the red head asked.

"I'm very lost, I remember a boring assignment and then," Durad lowered his head for a moment, biting his lip as his usual shield of humor faded. "I remember some kind of place, dark, no way out, things were chasing me but I got too tired and the..." he grimaced as his hand flinched. "The pain got too much, I got too tired too, can't recall how long I was running for but then...someone picked me up and carried me up a hill, towards a woman," the Qunari explained.

It was the truth, as much as he could understand of it. He was as confused about his story as the two women were.

"A woman, and a man?" the red haired woman asked.

"Yeah, they both seemed to glow, I remember the woman glowing green but the man's form was much clearer, I could actually see his eyes through the gold light," Durad said.

"What colour were they?" she asked.

"Red, but not one of those evil reds if you get my drift!"

Durad looked up at the woman; her turning away was all he needed to know she had a personal interest in the male figure. The Nevarran still seemed angry, but she had calmed only slightly, enough to make her seem reasonable. Both women conversed with one another, keeping their voices quiet but just loud enough for Durad to pick up a few words. Most people assumed from his race and size that he was a brawler, and though Durad was good with wrestling and fists fights his armed combat specialization was in knives and bows, his father trained him as a hunter. So Durad had sharp eyes and good hearing, so much that he could hear just enough from the two women to tell that there was something the red haired woman (whom he heard being called Leliana) wanted Cassandra to show him something. Leliana walked past Cassandra and exited the cell. Cassandra then unlatched Durad's cuffs from the floor and hurled him up. Her strength was surprising, though Durad could tell from her grip it was more aggression than pure strength. She offered no invitation or order and simply walked to the door, the swords pointed as his back were all the motivation Durad needed to follow.

'Can't say it's unpleasant,' Durad grinned, looking at Cassandra's hips.

When the door opened Durad had to shield his eyes from the light. He felt the pain in his hand get worse as he analysed what was in front of him. They were still in Haven, at some kind of camp, Durad could see common men and women huddled around tents, receiving aid from soldiers in a make of armour Durad hadn't seen before. They had some kind of eye symbol on their chest plates but the armour itself wasn't all that heavy. Durad could also tell that a majority of them weren't military; they walked the same way as the people they helped, no discipline or training behind them. Each person seemed to be mourning, some praying, others muttering to themselves in either tears or anger. Common sense urged Durad to look up at the sky, and the Qunari felt sick and horrified by what he saw. The full gravity of his situation began to weigh on him, and Cassandra saw this.

"We call it the breach, it grows larger with each passing hour," as if by her command the tear in the sky expanded.

Suddenly Durad felt excruciating pain as the light on his mark sparked as if it was electrified. Durad fell to his knees, gritting his teeth together and nursing the mark like a stab wound. It all honesty it felt worse than any prick or stab, his hand was burning. Cassandra knelt in front of him, her facial expression had taken a complete one eighty. She seemed concerned for him as she touched his hand, lifting it up and showing it to him.

"The mark on your hand is tied to the Breach, every time the Breach grows so too does the power of your mark, and it is killing you," she said.

"No shit, you really are a master seeker," Durad growled out of frustration.

"If the breach is not closed, it will swallow the world, if you are involved this is your chance to help yourself," Cassandra explained.

"LOOK LADY!" Durad yelled.

He stopped however as Cassandra frowned, she suddenly seemed more intimidating than the people behind her, whose interest had suddenly been drawn to their conversation. Durad let out a deep sigh, calming his running heart and looking the Seeker in the eyes.

"Look, I don't know what the hell happened at your conclave, you say everyone is dead but all I know is that one moment I'm eating lunch with my partners and then nothing, then I'm in some kind of nightmare and I think I'm save by some kind of glowing hero and then I find myself in a cell, my hand feels likes its burning, the sky has literally been torn open and accusations are being thrown at me when I don't know what the fuck I'm supposed to be guilty of, so tell me lady seeker what proof do you have that I would do this to myself?"

Cassandra's frown faded as she picked Durad up. Her face was actually asking him 'are you done?' she was more tired of his rant than angry about it. Holding the wooden block around his wrists, Cassandra dragged Durad through the camp, avoiding patrols of soldiers and priests. As she spoke, Durad felt the snow and ash stain his horns and her words pound needles into his coffin.

"They mourn our most holy, Devine Justinia, killed, no murdered at the conclave she led," she said.

"You said everyone was killed at the conclave, are you sure there are no survivors?" Durad asked.

"There was an explosion, one that consumed the temple of sacred ashes, there are only ruins and ashes left, some husks we can't identify, from the centre point of the explosion the Breach was formed, and smaller rifts in the fade have begun to appear across the region. You walked out of one such rift, and our soldiers found you, along with another whom has been fighting demons across the mountain," Cassandra explained.

"So why don't you question him?"

"He hasn't been found."

"HA! So you plan to label me the one responsible, does the chantry do things half assed?" Durad grinned as Cassandra glared at him.

"The people need to see someone punished for this," Cassandra said.

"So anyone will do really? Classic Chantry, talking all about its morals and 'serving the faith' and all that, but then when your own is killed you'll choose the first available suspect just to please the little people," Durad explained.

Cassandra said nothing as the pair approached the gate to the bridge. There a trio of soldiers waited, all of them with their weapons drawn. Durad noticed by the way they held their swords that they had barely been trained. Their hands shook and they all looked at him with the intent to kill. But killing intent wasn't enough; at least it hadn't been in Durad's line of work. He wagered that there was a certainty that he break at least one neck before someone got a lucky hit in. The Seeker however had other plans, she spread her legs across the dirt and narrowed her eyes at the men.

"Stand aside," she said.

"Lady Cassandra why are you protecting this man?" one of the soldiers asked.

"He should be hanged," said another.

"I am in command and I am telling you to stand aside," Cassandra's voice was much firmer, and Durad noticed her hand drift to her sword.

"The most holy is dead, and he killed her, he killed all of them," the oldest and apparent ring leader held his sword with both hands.

He stopped however as Cassandra half drew her sword.

"ENOUGH!" she yelled. "This is not the time for justice, until the breach is closed this man is under my protection, now I say again, stand, aside!"

All three sheathed their blades in defeat; they were at least smart enough to know they wouldn't stand a chance against the Seeker. In fact they seemed more intimidated by her than him, not that Durad blamed them. More and more his guard's identity became more apparent. She was Cassandra Pentaghast, a hand of the Divine (Durad couldn't keep up with Chantry politics) and member of the very large Pentaghast family of Nevarra, she was really the only Pentaghast worth remembering after her brother the famous dragon slayer.

"Thank you, but that's made me more confused than ever," Durad huffed.

"I will not simply throw you to the wolves to assuage their grief," Cassandra said as she led Durad through the gate and onto the bridge.

"This is going to become a common phrase with me, 'I didn't do it!'"

Despite how close his face had gotten, and how angry and frustrated he seemed, Cassandra casually drew the key from her pocket. She unlatched the cuffs and let them drop to the ground, stepping away from Durad as he rubbed his wrists. A moment passed in which Durad assumed she was waiting for him to run. When he didn't she showed no surprise.

"There will be a trial, I can promise no more," she said.

"Ah yes, drag me off to Val Royeaux, 'so Seeker what shape is the suspects ears?' 'Pointy your honour,' 'Oh and are those horns I see? Fuck it his guilt is on his forehead, off with his head,'" after finishing his rant Durad looked at Cassandra.

She walked away, perhaps expecting him to follow. He did so, not because she wanted him to but because he wanted to clear his name. Durad looked at the breach every time his mark sparked. It seemed to send green flames hurtling into the mountains. Despite the chaos and the many people who ran away from the breach, Cassandra walked up the road showing no sign of fear or hesitation. The mercenary admired her dedication, once the mission was clear her typical chantry loyalist attitude had faded in favour of a warrior's focus.

"We must look beyond ourselves, it is what Justinia would want," she said.

"You mean look beyond my horns," Durad said.

Cassandra said nothing, and because she had her back turned Durad couldn't tell if it was because she had been bothered by what he said or just didn't care. So far she hadn't made much of a good impression on him, as a person and not a warrior or chant of light follower. Durad looked up at the breach and saw the maker's work, the raw power and chaos of life, like a storm on the seas. Only this time the entire world could see the maker's power at work. To Durad the maker was power that couldn't be understood, faith was what people used to comfort themselves, to ease their fear of that power.

'If the maker has a will, then this must be one angry day for him,' Durad thought.

"Do you know anything about the man seen carrying you out of the fade?" Cassandra asked.

"I know about as much as you do, which is to say nothing at all," Durad said.

They came to another bridge and any further conversation the two could have was cut short, as a green fireball slammed into the middle of the bridge. Durad and Cassandra stumbled as the rocks crumbled beneath them. The bridge itself collapsed, stones slamming into the frozen lake beneath it. Cassandra rolled gracefully across the ice, cautiously standing as the ice cracked. She looked back and saw that the Qunari had landed just inches from a pool of freezing water.

'He must be either very lucky, or what others have said about him may be true,' the Seeker thought.

In the fall a brick had chipped one of his horns and put a cut on his forehead. He was dazed but alive as Cassandra hoped. She moved to pick him up, but then felt the ice crack behind her. She turned just in time, drawing her sword from her belt. The blade clanged against the claws of an armored demon, which recoiled from the Templar fire that spread across the blade. Cassandra swung the blade, cleaving through the shade as if it was nothing. She had face shades before but none like the kind the breach spat out. They seemed to be prepared for war, armor manifested on their backs and they moved a little bit faster. Cassandra held her sword with both hands as ghostly wraiths floated over the snow and two more shades began slithering towards her.

"Blessed are they who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter," the Seeker prayed as her attackers struck.

* * *

Ten years, it still felt odd for Daylen to think about. One moment he was dying the next he was fighting to survive, ten years had gone by. Ten years of events that may or may not have led to the fade becoming one with Thedas, ten years of peace or perhaps more conflict, ten years for the temple of sacred ashes to become a place of pilgrimage, ten years for a bitter man's animosity to grow worse. Daylen knew Cullen and he hadn't parted on the best of terms, after all Cullen had been calling for all the mages at the tower to be killed, even after Irving was saved and Uldred was killed. But the look in Cullen's eyes was not hatred for a mage; it was the intent to kill an abomination. Daylen ducked his head back as Cullen thrust his sword forward. Instinctively grabbing Cullen's wrist, Daylen raised his legs and locked them around Cullen's shoulder. He let his weight bring the Templar to the ground, slamming him back first against the rock. It was a disarming move Zevran taught him, though the assassin said he could be followed up by breaking the victim's arm. Daylen didn't want that, he let go of Cullen's arm and looked at the soldiers.

"GET BACK!" he yelled.

The soldiers, young and afraid flailed as Daylen pushed them back. The force wave was intended to get them out of harm's way, away from the shades and rage demons approaching. Daylen rushed through the fallen and disorientated troops, grabbing knives from their belts. Passing electricity through the right and fire through the left he cut through two shades, opening their guts. Then he put the knives together, freezing them to create a makeshift sword that he plunged through the rage demon's head. He collapsed onto the floor as the demon went down.

"Get up," he whispered, both to himself and the men behind him.

He found himself praying for a lyrium potion, actually praying for something to boost his mana. Will power alone helped him stand, helped him to sharpen the claws on his gauntlets with fire. Cullen stood, looking at the young man in front of him, cautiously but with a sense of realization. He realized if he didn't rely on this creature more of his men would die. So he stood and fought, cleaving through a shade and blocking a wraith's fire with his shield. He moved to aid a creature whom assumed the form of his nation's her. Yet looking upon it, watching it throw punches and swipe at the possessed corpses, Cullen saw that it was no mockery. It was a very convincing copy; it had to be a copy, and if the dead were truly returning then the crisis was worse than Cullen initially thought. Sometimes even the slightest shift in a force could tilt the balance of a battle. The appearance of the mage renewed the men's fighting spirits, they moved faster, defended better.

'We may just win this,' Cullen thought.

Daylen ripped off a corpse's arm and pride the sword it held from its finger tips. He swung the sword around; cutting off an undead's head. Stumbling backwards slightly he went back to back with Cullen. Any questions they had for one another had to wait, both threw themselves into the fight. Cullen whirled around, cutting apart two undead corpses and watching as Daylen melted the face of another. The creature flailed its arm about, trying to hit Daylen before he shoved his hand through its chest and ripped its heart out. Cullen narrowed his eyes slightly as the mage squashed the heart, drawing blood from it. His hands sparked for a moment and he let more spells fly, as if he had recovered his energy. Cullen recognised it as blood magic. But there were no demonic forces around Daylen.

'No it couldn't be him,' he thought.

Whatever his ally was had used the blood to fuel his spell. But that seemed to be all he had left, the young man's knees buckled slightly.

"I know you hate me for saving everyone at the circle Cullen," Daylen whispered as he slipped his fingers through the gaps in his shoulder pads. "I don't regret that decision at all, but the last thing I wanted was you hating me, so let me make up for the disappointment by saving your men!

Cullen heard one of the man behind him shudder as they heard the sound of metal ripping flesh. The young man let out a yell as he withdrew his hands, revealing them to be covered in blood. He threw his hands forward, creating a surge of electricity that rushed through the demons in front of him. The young man yelled, taking a few steps forward, his eyes burning red as fire, lightning and raw mana flew from his finger tips. He raised his hands, impaling several undead monsters with rock and ice spikes. Then he thrust his hands forward, creating a wave that threw the monsters back. He fell to his knees, looking towards the mountain as more demons emerged from a tear.

"Now would be a good time for you all to run," Daylen whispered as his vision began to blur.

* * *

Durad had never seen anything as amazing as Cassandra Pentaghast fighting. The tales of her prowess were no joke. She was good with a blade and the power of a templar. That and she was easy on the eyes as well, as Durad got off the floor he saw the tilt of her very attractive hips as she cut a shade down. But she could dodge the wraith's blasts for so long, and she was beginning to get outnumbered. Durad analysed his surroundings, the cracking ice, the ruined carriages with weapons and armour. He grinned as he spotted daggers and a shield.

"Too good an opportunity to miss," he muttered.

Cassandra stabbed a shade in its eyes and looked towards the prisoner. She immediately gasped in shock. He had taken a running start, tossed the shield he carried and then jumped on top of him. Using it as a makeshift sled he slid across the ice, up a small ramp and on top of the approaching shades. She ran to assist the fool, which was a label she began to rethink as Durad emerged from the snow. In actuality he jumped from the snow, moving with surprising speed for a man his size. Holding two short daggers he tore through the faces of the shades that hadn't been crushed by him. He stomped the tip of the shield, causing it fly up just as the wraith fired a blast. The green flame rebounded off of the shield, and then Durad kicked the shield, sending it spinning until it struck the wraith, snuffing it out like a flame.

"That's how you know I didn't kill the Devine, I wouldn't need a flashy explosion to do the job," Durad grinned, turning to Cassandra, and casually stabbing a shade at the same time.

"Put down your weapons," Cassandra said strongly.

"Okay," Durad said, dropping both his daggers.

Cassandra widened her eyes slightly, she expected the Qunari to be hesitant about the order.

"You may want to pick up that shield over there, not that I don't have complete and utter faith in your ability to protect yourself and me," he stated, casually crossing his arms.

The seeker sighed as she sheathed her swords.

"What guarantee do I have that you won't run?" she asked.

"My word, I'll follow you up that mountain, I'll see what can be done about this mark on my hand and the breach. There, honesty seeker, of what I'm capable of and of my intentions, and that's a lot better than the scraps any of the self-righteous townsfolk back there will give you," Durad explained.

He picked up his daggers, slyly catching a look at Cassandra as she bent down to pick up the shield. She was strong enough to lift it and use her sword effectively, as evidenced by the first two kills she got when they resumed walking on the path. The ambushes of the demons seemed coordinated to Durad, like the creatures felt that he was a danger somehow and knew he had to die. With every step he took through the snow he felt the sting on his hand get worse. It grew particularly bad when he and Cassandra reached her intended destination. Durad looked at the green portal in the ruins in front of him and whistled. Some of the Chantry soldiers were there fighting but they were only holding their own. The ones holding the battle were two men of opposite sides of life.

"Nice of you to join us Lady Seeker," the dwarf said.

Durad could tell from his clothes and demeanour that he was a surface dwarf, no Orzammar born dwarf would be as comfortable as he was in the open air, especially with the breach. The dwarf was very confident, firing bolts from his crossbow with an orchestral rhythm. It was no great achievement that every shot he made hit its mark, crossbows were easy to use once they were loaded. The dwarf however had a crossbow the likes of which Durad had never seen before. With a simple pull of the handle the dwarf was ready to fire another shot, without even having to load another bolt.

"We must dispatch these demons first, and then we can deal with the rift," the elf said.

The elf was definitely not part of the chantry, not a Loyalist Mage or even a Dalish. He wore thick clothing for the weather that was tailored, not made in the woods. Fire spells flew from his staff as fast as the dwarf's bolts, his staff-kata skills reminded Durad of the Saarebas in the Valos-Kas. Circle mages always moved their staffs with restraint, the elf mage moved fast, his magic wasn't something to be shackled to him but aimed, and he aimed well. The sunlight also reflected off of his head, which was enough to make Durad laugh. When he and Cassandra entered the fray, the four dominated the demonic forces.

"Quickly," the elf said, grabbing Durad's arm.

Durad was surprised that he hadn't noticed the elf before. He was even more surprised when the elf shoved his hand in front of the portal. A green beam shot from his hand, wrapping around the rift. Durad felt his hand shake as the rift began to shrink, then in an explosion of green energy the rift was gone. He looked at his hand in shock as the elf stepped back, putting his staff on his back.

"What did you do?" Durad asked.

"I did nothing, the credit is yours," the elf said.

"Well, at least this mark actually has a practical use," Durad muttered.

"It seems your theory was right, the mark is connected to the breach," Cassandra said.

"The mark draws its power from the rifts; with enough power it'll be able to close the Breach."

"Good and here I thought we'd be ass deep in demons forever," the dwarf said.

"I thought you'd always be ass deep in something," Durad grinned.

"Point taken, quick thinking too, so you're the guy who walked out of the fade, or perhaps dragged out is the correct term."

"Carried actually, it wasn't a dwarf who saved me," Durad said.

"Good to know, I thought my position as the only dwarf in this merry band was under threat," the dwarf chuckled.

"You're no mercenary I can tell that much, what's a merchant's guild dwarf doing with the chantry?" the Vashoth asked.

"Same reason you're here, I'm a prisoner, some bad shit happened and I'd rather not run away, Varric Tethras at your surface," he bowed slightly. "And this is fine thing I caught you eying earlier is Bianca, we don't mind it when people look but don't touch."

"Durad Adaar, at your service," Durad looked down at the dwarf and widened his eyes slightly, realizing something about the man. "Are you Kirkwall's Varric Tethras, author of the tale of the champion? Wow, I just keep running into famous faces today," the man grinned as Varric smiled and Cassandra shook her head. "So that must make you the warden commander of the Amaranthine wardens."

The elf laughed, though Durad could tell he was somewhat offended as well.

"He's not a mage, I am Solas, unlike Lady Pentaghast and the dwarf there are no great achievements behind me, except for my treatment of your mark," he explained.

"Nice to meet you Solas, how many templars did they have to threaten you with to come up here?" Durad asked.

"None, I do not serve the chantry based on payment or threat, I'm here to assist them with the breach, your mark is the key to closing it. I understand your skepticism but what happened earlier is proof enough that your mark is the key to our salvation," Solas explained.

"Which is why we need you to come to the temple of sacred ashes, to where the breach has first appeared," Cassandra said.

Durad laughed as he turned away, looking at the mark on his hand. He then looked at the breach and remembered what had happened earlier, how the people had called for his execution, the way they looked at him. Looking at the soldiers now he saw a different kind of expression. They were hopeful and that meant opportunity for him.

'How desperate is the situation, how desperate are they?' Durad wondered as he turned to Cassandra. "Fine, I'll do it, I'll help you, whatever it takes!"

Cassandra nodded her head in approval before she began leading the group forward. Durad smiled to himself, the Chantry was desperate. They were so desperate that they would call upon a heathen like him to save them. So he would help them, he would use this opportunity to prove his innocence, and if other opportunities presented themselves to him then he'd take them too.

'Profit is the life of a mercenary, and nothing's quite as profiting as being a hero!'

Next Chapter 3: Pain and memory

* * *

Hope everyone enjoyed the chapter, Durad is a mercenary, he's come from that background where your biggest priority is doing the job and making the money, but he's a deeper character and his view of the world and people will develop as more secrets are revealed to him and his responsibility grows.

Next time Durad and Daylen meet again, with some unexpected results


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age

Back with another update, this one providing a little more personal details of Daylen's experience in the tower and his adventures during the Blight, also more Durad.

* * *

Resurrection

Chapter 3: Pain and memory

Durad never had a particular view of friendship, he found the idea nice enough, someone to inspire the masses out of their fearful stupors. The only hero in his life had been his father, and he was entertained by Varric's tale of the champion. Coincidentally the champion was the cousin of the hero of Ferelden, Daylen Amell, a name Durad had heard ever since he had arrived in this country. Mages used it as a rallying cry, saying that the crown's promise to the dead man had never been granted, that a mage had put an end to the blight and united Ferelden again. Others said that he was the beginning of the end of the old age, or at least the old system of thinking. A mage granted freedom, whom broke the Grey Warden oath to never be involved in politics, whom intervened in conflict both small and large, whom was more charitable than any chantry and had attracted a diverse band of followers whose loyalty he secured, the chantry denounced him as a heretic whom stood against the will of the maker yet the people adored his story. So it was no surprise that the chantry had tried to use his story to their advantage. Back and forth clerics claimed that the Amell had prayed for the dead at Redcliffe, only for actual witnesses to say he uttered no prayer at all. The chantry even tried to conjure an image that fit their ideal hero, a white skinned Ferelden born man with short dark hair and blue eyes, and a dragon tattoo around his eye. A story revolving around Haven, the Warden's companions and a dragon even claimed that the warden's eyes had turned white.

All of it however was stated to be false. Daylen Amell was an atheist without apology, a man who helped people from all walks of life from apostates and templars, alienage elves to human nobles and chantry clerics to mercenary captains. A literal old wives tale was about a young man in his early twenties with a skin tone that was either Rivaini or Tevinter and red eyes coming to their houses and telling them that their husbands had died. Even the very mountain the chantry forces and Durad marched up was discovered because of Daylen Amell. He had tracked the path of brother Genetivi to a village called Haven, a place where people worshipped a dragon and protected the ashes of Andraste. Durad wondered what the man would have thought of the place of the ashes being a place of pilgrimage for a religion he hated? Then again history often forgot what heroes had done, Andraste, the first Inquisitor, Shartan, and all those Wardens whom had disappeared after their respective blights had ended, even a more current hero like the champion of Kirkwall had been turned into a figure for an organisation's gain. That was the inevitable fate of heroes, to be a memory, in the end their actions made no difference.

But Durad had nothing against playing the hero for his own gain. He could already see the benefits of being a hero when he reached the chantry's forward camp. The camp was like a gate to the peak of the Frostback mountain, to where the devine had hosted her conclave. As the green beam flew from Durad's hand and began to close the rift, he took note of the faces of the priests and soldiers watching him. Where before there was anger, now there was admiration and hope. They hoped that he would be the one to save them, and they were willing to forget their suspicions in favour of that hope. That was one advantage Durad saw for himself becoming a hero, it would give him a reputation that would make those who wanted to hurt him back off. He saw he had already gained that reputation when the soldiers stopped looking at him with hate. They were even willing to ignore the orders of Chancellor Roderick. The man was an annoyance but probably one of the few smart chantry priests, not seduced by superstition or desperation. Durad actually quite admired the man's ill trust, even though he had proven he was capable of closing the rifts, Roderick was not willing to give him free reign. Since many of the other important clerics died with the Devine, Roderick at present was the defacto leader of the Chantry in Ferelden. If the faithful valued being considered faithful (since the value of any one person's faith was most of the time determined by clerics) then his were not orders to be ignored. Yet even the hands of the Devine ignored his orders, and practically speaking they were right to.

"You are a bureaucrat, a place holder," Cassandra's assessment of him was on target

"And you are a thug, but one who supposedly serves the faith," the chancellor's judgement was semi-right, at least Durad found it so.

He grinned, looking between the unique trio. Cassandra Pentaghast, noble by title and training but a part of the faithful, yet she didn't follow the codes to the letter and was a warrior and not a priest. Her friend and fellow hand, Leliana, no noble name but had lived on those classes, flourished and sang in them, she had been both the tricky bard and the virtuous hero and yet underneath it all was a broken woman whom had reduced herself to being an errand girl for the chantry. Durad could see the yearning in her eyes, the subtle fidgeting in her feet. She craved action, a contradiction to her profession, she wanted to go into the mountain and see for herself whether the man she followed had truly returned. Then there was the chancellor, a man of politics and the priesthood, yet he was a man of reason and logic. When news came in of someone who could close the rifts, and a potential ally in a resurrected hero he was sceptical, cautious and Durad respected that. But at the moment it was in his way.

"There are men still up that mountain, men who can be saved and rallied, you want to try and take me in fine but don't start arguing amongst yourselves whilst your men's lives are at stake," Durad said.

"The temple is lost, you don't have enough men," Roderick said.

"I have scouts in the mountain, they have a safer way to reach the temple," Leliana said.

"What should we do?" Cassandra asked Durad.

It made him smile, his theories were continually being proven right. Often a hero could be the most unexpected person, if you were desperate enough you'd give power to that hero so they could make the decision to keep you breathing.

"First you regard me as a criminal, then you leave the decision of troop movements to me?" Durad asked.

"You are the one with the mark, the one put in danger," Cassandra said.

"Oh, so you want to be absolved of the responsibility of this decision?"

Durad's response made Cassandra glare.

"The consequences will still be on your head Seeker," Roderick said.

"No, they'll be on mine, it's as she said, I'm the one with the mark, unless you'd rather think of me the Qunari way...I don't know what word they would use for me but they would just send me away into hostile territory and use me like some kind of tool, or is the chantry **actually** better than that?" Durad asked, smirking as he looked towards Cassandra.

"The decision and the consequences are yours," she said.

Durad nodded his head and put a hand to his chin, closed his eyes and thought. The mountain pass Leliana had suggested was quicker and easier. Despite how much she wanted to take the path that led to 'Daylen' she was still running the safe and covert angle. Three scouts or a squad of soldiers who were still holding out? The scouts could get to safety if they received sufficient news but the soldiers were facing an assault, and unless you pushed back enemy troops or cut them off at the source you'd still face an assault. Durad's father taught him that the best way to oppose an enemy force was with greater numbers or a rallied force, both options were viable in this case.

"Leliana, send birds to your scouts in the pass, we'll aid the troops and take the direct approach to the mountain, Solas join with Varric and Leliana's archers in the front ranks, Cassandra are our troops decent enough to pull off a shield wall?" Durad inquired as he took a bow from the table of weapons and armour.

"They haven't had the time to receive training, but they will follow orders, SOLDIERS!" Cassandra yelled to catch the infantries attention.

"A bit small but I suppose it will do for now," Durad muttered after testing the bow string.

He strapped a quiver to his back and an archery glove onto his marked hand. Remarkably it still glowed through the fabric.

"Cool," Durad chuckled.

He readied and arrow as he joined the front ranks. Cassandra explained the plan like a true commander, no coddling of the inexperienced or lying about the situation. The men were frightened, but in Durad's presence he saw they had gained a little extra confidence. But his plan wasn't to rely solely on the soldiers. He was a good hand to hand fighter, but he excelled in archery, and archers could be the advantage of any army if used correctly. Durad always felt that King Cailan lost the battle of Ostagar not only because of Loghain abandoning him, but because he had been too eager to rush towards the darkspawn, to eager to face his enemy head on. It was often said in Starkhaven that the bow was the smart man's weapon, you could drive away an invading army without opening your gates and wilt an enemy army down to half its ranks without having to charge. The advance up the mountain wasn't as Durad expected though. Whoever led the Inquisition forces was good, for he established a firm defensive line that no demon got through. Durad kept his bow raised though, knowing that you couldn't always trust your eyes with demons. Sure enough Solas lashed out with his mage and killed two wraiths. Durad nodded to the elf, whom nodded back. The group got closer and closer to the formation of troops. Their numbers were higher than Durad expected them to be, even Cassandra seemed shocked by the number of survivors. The blonde haired man, the apparent commander had the troops form a defensive line with their shields. Any time the shades approached they pushed back with the shields and struck with their swords.

"What's the commander's name?" Durad asked.

"Cullen," Cassandra said.

"CULLEN!" Durad yelled.

The blonde turned and upon seeing the archers grabbed the men closest to him.

"EVERYONE DOWN!" he yelled.

The archers followed Durad's lead and fired, sending a volley of arrows flying into the demons. Durad advanced with the soldiers, firing a into wraiths. Varric prioritised the long range targets too and Solas protected the men, buffing them with defensive spells. Cassandra however rallied them, as soon as Durad lowered his bow she ran. The very sight of the holy fire across her sword inspired the soldiers, they ran faster and hit harder. Cassandra beheaded a shade and split a rage demon's head open. She swung and cut down another shade, bashing an attacker behind her with her shield. Cullen backed away slightly with his men, but looking through Cassandra's troops he saw something that made him rush forward. Durad followed the man's gaze and narrowed his eyes slightly at what he saw. He saw a man younger than him, he was either Rivaini or from some other hot part of Thedas. His armour had a subtle, bird like design to it yet had no heraldry or decorations. Durad saw the blood that had soaked the young man's shoulder pads and the visible fatigue on his scratched face. Despite that however the young man gathered the strength to bat a Revenant's blade away with his gauntlet.

"_Din,_" Solas muttered something in what Durad assumed was Elvish.

"He's just as Sunshine described," Durad heard Varric whispered.

The revenant swung its sword down, only to meet Cullen's blade. Cullen pushed the revenant back and blocked its counter strike. He then swung his sword around and imbedded it in the revenant's arm. Cullen suddenly yanked the blade free and stabbed it through the revenant's face. As the last of the demons fell, Durad and his party made their way over to the young man. Cassandra kept her sword at the ready, touching the tip of the man's chin and raising his head.

"What manner of creature are you, an envy demon?" Cassandra demanded.

"I do not think so Seeker, I know Envy demons and they usually take the form of the living, someone whom they have studied in advance, how well do you know this man Commander Cullen?" Solas asked.

"I attended his harrowing and spoke with him several times before he left the tower, and once more when he returned," Cullen said.

"Envy is never happy with one form for long, it is a sad and lonely kind of spirit that tries to fill an empty void in its heart, it seems unlikely that it would have risked discovery by returning to your tower or have been happy with the hero of Ferelden's form for so long," Solas explained.

"Is that what they're calling me?" the young man asked.

"The hero of Ferelden, Daylen Amell," Durad said as he brushed past Cullen and Cassandra and looked down at the mage. "Everywhere I go in this country I've heard your name whispered, from the lowliest village, to the capital itself, mages and templars alike were throwing your name around during their arguments, as if you were an important figure, a god even. But what do I see now? Flesh, blood, and fatigue, you were one who discovered this place? Who slew a dragon on this very spot? Whom united an army and led it to the capital? From what I've read you died a hero and yet here you are alive, bleeding and breathing, I'm no expert on demons but I've heard they defend themselves when attacked!"

Durad's companions widened their eyes as his slammed his foot onto Daylen's shoulder. The mage yelled out in pain as Durad applied continuous pressure.

"Then again that could apply to anyone, I didn't know you, I can't quiz you on whether or not you are who you say you are, but I can test if you live up to every body's expectations," Durad explained as he kicked Daylen in the gut. "So come on hero, do something selfless, something heroic, prove to us you aren't a demon, PROVE IT!"

* * *

"PROVE IT AMELL!"

"You don't have to shout you know," he was ten again, looking down at a fellow mage.

There was a small gathering in the tower library, four young mages, a human girl with red hair and a white haired elf girl and two human boys, one dark haired and the other blonde, watched as Daylen climbed up one of the book cases. Of course there were ladders the apprentices could use but that was being used in the row opposite there's. The elf girl put her hands together, praying slightly as Daylen's foot slipped. He managed to catch it on a book and kick it to the ground below.

"Wow what luck, this is the one Wynn's going to teach us about," the elf said.

"Is there one about Griffon's up there?" the red haired girl asked.

"Let me check," Daylen said.

"Daylen I think it's better if you just stop now," the dark haired boy said nervously.

"Scared for your lover Jowan?" the blonde asked.

"Shut up Anders he could really hurt himself if he falls," Jowan said.

"Common animals and creatures, incoming Petra," Daylen said as he threw another book down.

The red haired girl caught the book eagerly and began checking the index.

"Actually Daylen I think it would be in the 'extinct creatures' section," the elf girl said.

"Oh thanks Neria, now I need to go all the way across," Daylen growled.

He began shimmying along the book case, Anders made several noises in an attempt to disrupt Daylen's concentration. It earned him an elbow to his gut from Petra. Daylen climbed up another level and reached for one of the books.

"The four schools: a treatise by First Enchanter Josephus," he read the title.

"DAYLEN AMELL!" a voice shrieked from the doorway.

The three youths turned to their instructor as she marched into the library. Daylen looked to the white haired woman with a bored expression.

"Oh hi WynWOAH!"

Another book he held in his hand slipped from the case, followed by his feet. He dropped back first towards the floor, slamming his right shoulder against the end of the table. Only he heard the sickening pop of his shoulder, but everyone in the library heard his scream of agony. Tears were flowing out of his eyes as Wynn and a Templar crouched over him.

"Magic alone won't help, he needs to have the joint pushed back into place," Wynn said.

"I am so sorry child," he felt the knight grip his arm firmly and then pushed down on his shoulder.

Daylen's scream grew louder, this time everyone heard the pop. A warm light covered his shoulder, ensuring the break would heal properly and condition the bones. Wynn rubbed the young man's hair as he continued crying. It would be the first time in his life Daylen felt significant pain, but not the greatest.

**Twenty one years later**

Despite having dislocated his shoulder at ten, at twenty one he didn't stop climbing, in fact he didn't stop doing reckless things in general. Climbing up a mountain he unknowingly would find himself on again ten years later, Daylen's cloak flapped behind him as the wind blew. It had created a blizzard around the mountain. Daylen dug his clawed gauntlets into the rock and pulled himself up, placing his foot on a rock and using that to push himself up to another set of grips.

"You know my friend, when you told me that the next few minutes would involve strenuous activity, this isn't exactly what I had in mind," the Antivan elf beneath him said.

"I'm pretty sure we could take the same path that Wynn, Leliana and Sten are taking," Alistair said.

"And where's the fun in that, besides we can't chance walking through the front gate with these people, not after what they did to Genetivi's apprentice," Daylen explained.

"Oh so you'll chance falling down a steep drop but not going through the front gate of a village possibly filled with crazy murderers. In fact now that I've said that out loud this option doesn't seem very bad," Alistair said.

"I didn't think it possible Alistair for you to sound more like a fool," Morrigan said, already standing at the top of the cliff.

Daylen helped himself up and proceeded to help Zevran and Alistair.

"What is it like flying Morrigan my dear?" the elf asked.

"Better than anything you could possibly do in bed assassin," Morrigan said.

"Oh be fair Morrigan, you haven't yet had me in bed yet, I assure you any pleasure flying gives you pales to what I can do in even a tent," Zevran explained.

"Quiet both of you," Daylen said as he crouched.

"You know Daylen, you sound a lot like Sten when you talk like that."

"I noticed that too," Alistair said.

Daylen narrowed his eyes as three figures moved through the blizzard. When he caught sight of Wynn's red staff he relaxed. His other three companions crouched down to his level, keeping themselves hidden behind the tree.

"Did anyone see you?" Daylen asked.

"There were one or two men patrolling, both armed and fully armoured, strange considering this place has no real value," Leliana explained.

"No one saw us but they will see our tracks in the deep parts of the snow," Sten said.

"Then we don't have much time, we find Genetivi and find out what he knows about the ashes and then get him out of here if we can. We've probably got another hour before this storm passes so that's our window, Alistair, Leliana and Morrigan will come with me to the chantry, we'll find out what we can from there, discreetly," Daylen explained, emphasising discreet.

"Shame on you Daylen, Wynn should be out of the cold," Zevran grinned.

"Its Sten I'm more worried about, if only I had some wool," Wynn said.

"Parshaara, this cloak already suffices," Sten said.

After navigating through the blizzard, Daylen cautiously opened the door to the chantry. It wasn't as fancy as Lothering or even Redcliffe's chantry. Everywhere Daylen looked he could see dust, webs in the corners, even the wood seemed decayed and did little to block out the sound of the wind. Daylen walked through the building and motioned for his companions to follow. Leliana snorted in disgust at the smell, more used to the cleanliness of a traditional chantry. This place however seemed less than traditional. Daylen slowly opened one of the doors and looked into a small library, where an altar had been set up. Oddly a man stood at the proceedings leading the prayers of several young men and women. He didn't wear chantry robes but robes with fur pads on the shoulders and his arms were exposed.

"Ah my children, it seems we can welcome new additions to our prayer, come strangers make yourselves comfortable, we have a fire if you wish to get warm," the priest explained.

"Thank you, where is the grand cleric?" Daylen asked.

"I am the revered father Eirik, my son," the priest said as he bowed his head.

"Are there no sisters here, I am part of the faith too," Leliana said.

"We are all initiates of the faith," the priest motioned across the room.

'Two men with knives, one kneeling beside a sword, bulky guy in the corner, three women probably hiding daggers, two armoured guards on the priest's right, and two on the left,' Daylen analysed the situation, seeing the staff strapped to the man's back.

"We don't often see strangers around here," the priest said.

"Then you'll probably know who we are looking for," Daylen said.

He didn't bow his head or sit in the pews, even Leliana and Alistair didn't do anything to show their faith, or a potential blind spot. Daylen lifted his hood off so he could get a better look around the room. His eyes were drawn to the wall beside Eirik, dust floated away from the edge of it.

'Secret door,' he reached into his bag and pulled out a gold ring.

"That belonged to a young man in Denerim, said his name was Weylon, except he wasn't Weylon, the real Weylon had the skin burnt off of his bones. The Weylon we met tried to steer us away from where Brother Genitivi was going, we're looking for him you see, he was researching something that pointed him to this area, only this is the last anyone's heard of him." Daylen explained.

"I'm sorry about your friend but he's not here," Eirik said.

"Oh, too bad, the research notes I found pointed to this exact village, and Weylon confirmed that Genetivi was alive, he said something about Kolgrim wanting to make sure anyone Genetivi might have told was dead, I couldn't really understand with all the screaming!"

"Screaming?" one of the guards looked at Daylen with his eyes wide.

"Yeah," Daylen lowered his head in sighed. "I...got very angry when I saw what he did to the real Weylon, I told myself he deserved everything he got but that's not true, I was being...self righteous and cruel and I'm sorry," Daylen rubbed his eyes and swallowed.

"Sorry for what?" Eirik asked.

_"AAAAAGH!"_

_"You melted Weylon's skin 'Weylon', I've just given you first degree frost bite, you'll probably recover if you get proper treatment if not your tendons, blood vessels and nerves will freeze and your fingers will have to be amputated, now tell me everything about where Genitivi has been taken!"_

_"For Andraste, my sacrifice will be honoured, FOR ANDRASTE!"_

_"Fine, we'll move on to the toes then."_

_"AAAAGH!"_

"I'm sorry the murdering bastard died screaming, screaming his garbage about Andraste protecting him, you people value fire and he died cold," Daylen said.

Suddenly, one of the men behind Daylen drew his knife. Daylen slammed his elbow into the man and released a force blast, throwing Eirik against the wall.

"FOR ANDRASTE!" one of the guards yelled.

Daylen quickly used a Winters grasp on the two of the guards swords, freezing the blades against the sheaths. The other two ran at Daylen as he ran back, pulling a dagger out of a woman's grip and throwing her across the room. Morrigan released a blast of electricity, frying the woman as she stood up. Leliana drew her daggers and slashed one of the guards in the leg. Alistair then drew his sword and slid it through the visor of the man's helmet. The door was suddenly thrown open and Sten emerged, drawing the war hammer on his back. He smashed one of the dagger wielders across the face, sending blood and skull fragments spreading across the floor. Zevran stabbed one of the women in the heart, placing her on the floor before throwing a dagger into another man's back. Alistair clashed his sword with one of the guards, parrying his lung and shoving him against the wall.

"YOU COME TO OUR VILLAGE AND BLASPHEME!" Eirik yelled as he stood up.

He threw a fire ball at Alistair, hitting his shield. The guard then kicked Alistair's shield, only for Alistair to push back and shove him against the wall again. Alistair caught the man's arm with his sword and then stabbed him in the chest. Eirik released a spirit bolt, hitting Sten in the back. Daylen rushed into the Qunari's way, deflecting Eirik's followed up bolt. He created a barrier, soaking up the fury of Eirik's lightning.

"MURDER OUR FOLLOWERS!" the priest screamed.

"You killed first, I didn't want it to be that way," Daylen said.

"YOU WILL NOT DEFILE ANDRASTE!" Eirik yelled.

A white flash suddenly drained Eirik's magic. Alistair followed his smite with a lunge, stabbing through Eirik's mouth. He pulled the blade free and looked to Daylen.

"Please don't, please don't," they turned to the corner of the room, where one of the women had crawled to.

"Don't, she's not a fighter," Daylen said.

"She's with these cultists, and they aren't the kind of good cult that engages in orgies," Zevran said.

"Please stop, don't hurt me," the woman pleaded.

Daylen knelt in front of the woman and opened his mouth to say something. But he suddenly found he couldn't speak, any excuse he could make left him. He looked at the ring on the floor, the one he pried off of the imposters frozen hands. After the torture Daylen felt sick, knowing that he was capable of doing that, that he had put someone through pain and filled them with fear. It wasn't the kind of person he wanted to be.

"I'm sorry," he said before he turned around.

"Death to those, whom defile ANDRASTE!" the woman screamed.

She threw her hands forward and released a blast of fire, striking Daylen's back. He screamed in agony, feeling his shirt crumble and his back burn.

"SAAREBAS!" Sten yelled.

He threw his hammer with such force that it smashed the woman's skull and took a chunk of the wall behind her. Daylen was still screaming when Wynn and Morrigan started caring for him. His companions all looked at him sympathetically, not just because of the pain he was in but the disappointment he received after showing mercy. Leliana knelt in front of him as Wynn ran her glowing hands across his back. The red haired woman gently touched his cheeks and began singing softly, trying to take his mind off of the pain. Morrigan added her own magic, and poured poultices over his back.

"Look to the stars, for one day soon, the dawn will come," Leliana whispered.

Daylen lunged forward, knocking Leliana to the floor. He regretted his instinct, caused by the ointment Morrigan poured onto his back. Leliana stood and stroked Daylen's hair the way Wynn did all those years ago. The pain never truly faded, Daylen insisted that Morrigan and Wynn do what they could to get him in a fighting condition. He spent the rest of their time on the mountain in pain. Even though it got more bearable he knew he would remember the agony for the rest of his life.

* * *

Daylen remembered the agony he had felt before, and the Qunari's brutish attempt to goad him didn't hurt in the least. He remembered what anger could cost him, and he didn't rise to his tormentors taunts. Grabbing the giant's boot, Daylen pushed him back and glared as he forced himself to stand. Back then, when he was surrounded by cultists, when his back was burning with pain he knew he couldn't afford to stop. He kept going through the pain because Eamon's life was at stake, so he'd go through this pain and even though he was still weak he's still fight, even if it meant dying again. His eyes glowed red as his blood began to spark, using the blood in the place of mana and healing magic he cauterised his wounds. He nearly collapsed from the effort but it wasn't enough to keep him down.

"What are you?" the Qunari asked.

Daylen let out a few deep and tired breaths before he grinned, "A tough and crazy bastard," he said.

That made the Qunari chuckle as he looked towards his other companions.

"No envy demon would put their life at risk with a little used and untested form of magic, using blood magic to heal yourself," the elf spoke as if he was the smartest person on the mountain, and shook his head in disapproval.

"Damn, I need to put that line in one of my books 'tough and crazy bastard', classic," the dwarf laughed and rested his crossbow on his shoulder.

"If we are going to take him with us he must go in front, I will not risk him attacking our troops," the short haired woman said.

Cullen sheathed his sword and walked closer towards Daylen, looking at his face.

"If you really are him, the maker must truly be watching us," the templar said before he turned to the Qunari. "This man is not our enemy!"

The Qunari grinned and looked up at the breach.

"That's very clear now, so who wants to go in front?"

Next Chapter 4: Battle at the temple

* * *

Hope everyone enjoyed the chapter, Daylen's frostbite quote I burrowed from the Flash TV show, also to establish the point that Daylen isn't a squeaky clean guy, can anyone spot the joke when Zevran said Daylen sounded like Sten?

Next time sheds some light on Durad's background and Daylen has a reunion with Leliana.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age

Sorry to have kept you all waiting, also made some changes to the cover image, the image I used was taken from a character editor in the game Dynasty Warriors 8 Empires, its how I imagine Daylen looks, armour and weapons will appear later.

This chapter of course includes the battle at weathertop :), and a little more exploration of Durad's past, once again Durad belongs to 00virtuezero and he edited the chapter.

* * *

Resurrection

Chapter 4: Battle at the temple

Twenty years ago

Any other nine year old would be playing with other children, pretending to be a knight and working out how best to prank the girls of whatever village they were living in. Durad Adaar wasn't like other children though; he was Tal-Vashoth, an outsider even amongst his own kind. His parents barely lived in villages for longer than a few months at a time. The wild was Durad's home and he had to learn to survive. So whilst other boys played in the mud, Durad crept in it and watched his prey. There it was his expected meal for the night. It was a grand beast, a stag of such grace and power that Durad almost felt bad about killing it. He eyed the creature, taking his bow from his back and an arrow from his quiver. Walking out of the bushes he placed the end of the arrow onto the string. Suddenly the beast turned and Durad cursed himself, his feet had snapped an arrow. The stag rushed towards him and Durad raised his bow and pulled back on the string. He let out a scream as the stag leapt over him, striking his head with his feet. Durad fell onto the mud, anyone else would have been injured, but the horns of a Kossith were like a helmet, a form of protection. His horns hadn't fully yet grown, but Durad was thankful he had them.

"You held your shot, never hold your shot," a voice said from another bush.

Durad's father then emerged, the biggest man in any room. He couldn't tell whether his horns would be like his mother's or his father's, as his father only had one curved right horn, the other had been broken off at the stem. His father also sported battle scars across his arms and face, both of which he kept exposed with little clothing. He told his son once it was to remind him what he could get if he became part of the Antaam, the soldiers of the Qunari, the scars would be his price for being just a decent warrior. Perfection was not a demand of the Adaar household, only endurance. So Durad wasn't surprised that he had to help himself up.

"You held the bow string for too long, you hesitated, if it was a bear you'd have been gutted after you let it go," his father said.

"How am I supposed to aim though?" Durad asked.

"You perfect your stance and aim with your eyes, once your eyes know where the target is or where it's going to be then you won't even have to take the time to aim," the man explained.

"My method would have worked if I didn't snap a damn twig," Durad said.

"Then tread lighter, crawl through the dirt if you have to then perfect your stance when sitting down."

"You can't shoot a bow sitting down."

Durad's father ignored his comment and sat down. He took out his bow and hooked it onto his feet. Then he positioned the arrow and pulled back on the string, as if pulling back on a crossbow. Without holding the string, or taking the time to aim he released the string and sent the arrow flying through the bush. Durad's ears perked as he heard something fall. He and his father moved through the bushes and saw a stag; the arrow had gone through its belly. The creature was whining in pain, reeling its head back and forth with every cry. Durad gasped as his father handed him an axe.

"Put the creature out of its misery," he said.

Durad gripped the axe and began moving towards the creature. He raised the axe over his head and bought it down on the animal's neck. They had their food for the night, but Durad's father still demanded that he hit a target without holding his position. He talked Durad through the proper stances and even adjusted his back and limbs when he held the bow. But he still demanded that Durad hit the target, a marked stone, with just a single pull of the string without holding it. Durad did it once, twice, three more times and four more times in which he missed. Out of frustration Durad tried to snap the bow, but his father promptly tripped him to the floor.

"Aggression is good, but throwing a tantrum? Do I have to teach you how to use your brain again?" the man asked.

"No father, but...can we please just rest for a bit, my arms are tired," Durad said.

"Because you've been aiming with your arrow instead of your eyes, you hold the pose like a military archer, that's good if you're working with a unit firing flurries into another unit coming towards you, but hunting is different, shooting a single target is different, if they see you aiming they'll get a chance to defend themselves, if you're too busy aiming and they're running towards you there's a good chance the arrow won't hit its mark and you'll be dead," his father explained.

"I'm never going to be able to hunt like you do, it's too hard," Durad whined.

Much to Durad's surprise his father helped him up, looking him in the eyes as he spoke.

"Then that is precisely when you try harder, when you pull yourself together and do it. Because if you stop now, if you give up on something when it's too hard, you'll never achieve anything!"

He brushed the dirt off of Durad's clothes and raised his bow arm.

"I don't do this to punish you, my role as your father is not to make your life easy, it's to teach you how to stand on your own if ever you never find those who can help you," the man explained.

"Will anyone ever help me?"Durad asked.

"That is up to you, now try again son!"

Durad narrowed his eyes at the target, he listened to the wind, felt its direction on his skin. Then he prepared the bow and knocked back the arrow.

* * *

That was then and as an adult Durad felt that his father had taught him more than enough about how to stand on his own, on how to be a man. But in teaching him to be other things, a leader, a lover, even a friend were things Durad still had to learn. He was by no means inexperienced in some of those matters, when it came to being a leader Durad understood that command required a degree of confidence and an ability to make decisions and live with the consequences. Cullen seemed to be that kind of leader, men were dead under his command and he intended to take the survivors and leave. Yet there was a moment of hesitation, in which the soldiers looked at Daylen Amell.

It frustrated and confused Durad, Cullen had given his men direct orders yet they were actually considering disobeying them, all to follow a man who may or may not be the icon of their country. In the end however they followed Cullen's commands and returned to camp.

In regards to friendship, Durad at least felt he knew something about friendship. He had been in companies that had betrayed him and companies that had been loyal to him, and he had done vice versa to them. Sometimes they abandoned him to Tamassrans and Chantry mobs because they offered a high amount of coin, and Durad didn't fault them when they did it for that, it was when they hated him for his horns that Durad didn't hesitate to alert city guards of a company's more illicit activities. If a company dabbled in slavery or broke Durad's 'code of theft' then he never hesitated to leave them when the righteous came knocking. Durad did believe in honour to an extent and his code was simple. He never stole from anyone who couldn't afford it and he never hurt anyone who didn't deserve it in one way or another, whether it was someone trying to kill him or someone who was unpleasant to the people beneath them. Durad found those whom shared a similar code that he did and then he joined them. Most were Tal-Vashoth like him, they had been born outside of the Qun yet were still judged by the expectation. Durad knew the names of those whom accompanied him, knew their motivations for joining the company and they shared drinks, jokes and in general got on well. So that was probably one aspect of friendship covered.

But love, which was something Durad knew he couldn't learn from his father and especially his mother. His father told him Kadan was the closest thing to love with Qunari, so Qunari could love all their Kadan and sex would never factor into it. The woman however, his mother was a cryptic bitch whom Durad connected with very little in comparison to his father. She had been a good care giver at least but in regards to love she had said something along the lines of 'love being simple and deep, yet you can only understand it by knowing it, yet it is simple to know,' it sounded paradoxical to Durad though he didn't have a complete memory of it.

But sex, Durad knew that, when he turned eighteen his father took him to a brothel and paid for one of the cheapest sessions there. There was no drinking afterwards and the two walked back without discussing it. Sex was like a poultice, a medicine to Durad, he used women whom tried to use him, noble and married women whom tried to disguise themselves and get a taste of the life they secretly wanted. Durad's favourite was elf women from Orlais, they lived in the richest country in Thedas yet were no better than slaves in Tevinter. By being intimate with one another, Durad and the women he slept with got that one piece of happiness they could get in this savage world, Durad could be something besides a fighter or a thief (unless they were virgins).

Durad came across paradoxes that puzzled him, and made him realize his father had been right. People couldn't be grouped together and summarized, one person couldn't be judged by the expectations another set. Cassandra was solid in her faith in the chantry, yet she was no sister and she showed little respect for chancellor Roderick. Cullen was a commander, uptight, firm in his decision making but a warrior and a fighter. Durad could see from earlier that fighting was a struggle for Cullen despite his skill. Something was holding him back, something that should put him at the back ranks shouting orders. But he stood at the front and even carried his troops away from danger. Then there was the most surprising of all, the bigger enigma than Solas, his fellow mage and the hero of Ferelden Daylen Amell. As they got further and further to the temple Durad saw more and more of Daylen's determination. He created ice, melted it with fire and used the water to clean his wounds so they wouldn't fester. Despite not suffering from fever anytime soon, Daylen was still clearly tired. He remained at the front, his speed increasing every so often as the others caught up with him.

This man seemed determined to be the first into a fight, what a mage shouldn't be. Many a time Durad had seen mages fighting in the back ranks, throwing fireballs over their own allies, destroying ranks of enemies or buffing allies. But Daylen carried the sword of a dead soldier, dragging it across the floor because of his near exhaustion. Durad could see from the man's grip that he intended on using it. He had only heard of Knight-Enchanters using swords, and even those were composed of magic. Daylen was very much a physical man, he had been fighting longer than Solas but still struggled less with walking than the elf. Durad had heard little more than a rumor that may have shed light on Daylen's physical prowess. Apparently he had discovered some kind of elven spirit and had taken its knowledge, reviving an art of magic used by the ancient elves. The young man had bested Loghain in physical combat, though Durad always felt that had Loghain been younger he would have won.

"We are getting closer, I can feel how weak the Veil has become," Solas said.

"I know a little bit about magical theory, the veil should have been weak here before the conclave right?" Durad asked.

"Indeed, there was much bloodshed at haven, before and after the grey warden had arrived," the elf said.

Durad saw something in Solas's eyes as he looked at Daylen, animosity perhaps, Durad couldn't tell. Solas seemed very difficult to read, he dressed in common clothes, smelt as if he was used to living in the woods yet didn't walk like any apostate born in the wilds or even villages. He seemed proud of every free step he took, yet it was refined in a way similar to some nobles Durad had met. The elf however, though physically tired showed no sign of being bothered by the hard work of walking up a mountain. There was no such thing as a noble born elf, yet Solas seemed to be the closest to it Durad had ever seen.

"What happened after Amell walked off with the ashes?" Varric asked.

"Brother Genetivi led an expedition to reclaim the ashes, some of the cultists remained," Cassandra said.

"Were they all killed?" Daylen asked, turning to face Durad's companions.

"A reaver called Tamar was found, the Devine intended to make her an agent of...an organization she intended to put together if the Conclave failed," the Seeker explained.

"What was the conclave about exactly?" the Warden asked.

"The Divine intended to reach a compromise with the Mages and the Templars, to prevent further bloodshed and end the war," Solas said, " However given today's events the thought of peace seems to be completely destroyed along with the Conclave."

Daylen stopped and cast his eyes to the ground, he always hoped that mages would someday break away from the Chantry and the circles. But he never wanted a full scale war.

"What happened?" he asked.

"It's a long story and we seem to nearly be there," Varric said.

"It's still a long way for you," Daylen quipped.

Varric and Durad both laughed at the joke. Both had always thought that the hero was a goodie two shoes, a man of honour and principle. He was both, but that didn't mean he didn't have a sense of humor.

'Makes him at least more tolerable I guess', The Qunari mused.

"Right now however I think our focus should be on the giant hole in the sky, and a way to close it," Durad said, looking at his mark as he spoke. The mark seemed to bleed with green Fade-like energy, similar to a recent wound.

"And that mark will close it?" Daylen asked.

"It's already closed smaller rifts," Durad said.

"That Mark seems tied to the Breach somehow, the Rifts are echoes of the Breach, so long as the Breach remains Rifts will continue to appear. The mark generates the same energy as the rifts, part of the Fade is actually present in that mark, anyone capable of using it will be able to close the rifts and like a swordsman training their skill will increase," Solas explained.

"How do you know so much about this?" Daylen asked.

"Whilst some mages may study the arcane or potions, I have spent my life studying the Fade and spirits, I am as familiar with them as an herbalist to their ingredients," the elf said.

"Then it must be a pretty good coincidence that you were nearby when this happened," Daylen said.

"Half of everything that happens is coincidental, take your recruitment into the Grey Wardens for example, the commander could have just as easily have gone to a Dalish clan or to Orzammar," Solas explained.

There was some animosity in Solas's voice, though he hid it well. What Daylen said seemed like a cast of suspicion on the elf mage. But it made Cassandra think of how convenient Solas's knowledge and help was. To her it was clear that the Maker seemed determined to bring certain individuals to the Conclave. She looked towards the path ahead and saw the ruins of what had once been the conclave summit. Daylen however remembered it differently as the Temple of Sacred ashes. He could see the remnants of decorations the Chantry had put in when they refurbished the temple. What he felt however was eerily familiar. He began hearing the faint whispers when he approached a glowing red rock.

"Seeker," Varric looked to Cassandra in horror.

"What is it?" she asked.

"It's Red Lyrium, why is it here?" it was the first time any of the people present heard fear in Varric's voice.

Daylen gripped the side of his head and stood straight, fighting the feeling of nausea the Lyrium gave him.

"What's wrong with you?" Durad asked, shoving Daylen slightly.

"I can sense Darkspawn here," Daylen said.

Cassandra immediately drew her sword, whilst Varric whipped out Bianca. The other soldiers shook slightly in fear as they circled around Durad and Daylen. Durad looked at Daylen as he began reaching for one of the Lyrium rocks. He touched the surface of the rock and closed his eyes. The young man's head jerked as if he heard a yelling in his ear. Then he withdrew his hand and stepped back.

"That stuff's evil, don't touch it again hero," Varric warned. The Dwarf narrowed his eyes at the blood red stone, and gripped his crossbow.

"What did you sense?" Solas asked. The Eleven Apostate raised his eyes brow at the Grey Warden reaction.

"Something that shouldn't be possible from a stone," Daylen said. The Warden's crimson eyes were uncertain and weary.

"Impossible," a voice said from behind the group.

"Yeah, that's what he said," Durad grinned, turning to the source of the voice.

Daylen widened his eyes, just like the hooded woman did. Leliana stood with some of her scouts, her mouth wide in shock upon seeing her old friend. Her hand drifted to the quiver at her belt as Daylen took a few steps closer.

"It can't be you," she whispered.

"It is me Leliana, or I at least think...and hope that it's me," Daylen said.

She knocked back an arrow, trailing it over Daylen's head. Cassandra looked between her fellow hand and the hero of the nation. She was concerned for them both, if Leliana fired the shot she either killed her friend and an innocent man or killed a demon posing as him. Both were traumatic in their own ways and out of the two of them Leliana's faith had been shaken the most by recent events. Unlike before Daylen didn't raised his hands, instead he brushed past Solas and Varric and began walking towards Leliana.

"When we first met I doubted whether or not you were actually getting visions from the maker, Alistair insisted on bringing you along and I said you were..."

"An Archdemon short of a blight, I've never hid the doubts my friend had for me, that story circulates around court quite often," Leliana explained.

"Did anyone know what Alistair said afterwards? He called you strange too, but he said at least you were more 'ooh pretty colours', rather than 'mwahaha, I'm princess stabbity, stab, stab kill, kill," Daylen smiled, even as Varric and Durad laughed.

"I've got to meet the king," The Qunari muttered.

"You don't mind if I steal that one do you?" Varric asked.

"When we got to Redcliffe, I remembered how you talked about your mother, and how Andraste's grace reminded you of her, so I picked a few from near the Windmill. Further into our journey we were ambushed by a few rangers, they were working for your old patron. When we confronted her, I convinced you to leave her with just a threat, in spite of everything you told me she had done to you, I convinced you to be merciful," Daylen continued reminiscing as he got closer and closer to Leliana.

One of Leliana's scouts got between them however, Durad noticed that the woman wasn't in chantry garb but green full plate Dalish armour. She held an elven great sword, a rare sight considering most elves favoured speed. Durad could only see the woman's icy blue eyes through her helm.

"Demons can read the emotion they represent, that's how they trick you, by appealing to that emotion," she said.

"Yes, of course," Leliana said, shaking her head as if she had been snapped out of a dream.

"Fine then," Daylen crossed his legs together as he sat. "A couple of hours ago I was killing an Archdemon fully expecting to die, then I'm wading through the snow, fighting demons and everywhere I look people are accusing me of being a demon, my friends have changed and probably the whole world too, ten years," he shook his head in dismay. "If your instincts tell you that I'm a danger, then don't doubt them, kill me now if it makes you feel safer!"

Daylen looked up at the elven woman, his eyes firm and resolute. He was fully willing to accept her blade on his throat. But the warrior did nothing, whilst she was eager to fight before an unarmed, unwilling opponent didn't seem to have any appeal to her fighting instincts. She backed away, giving Leliana room to walk in and touch Daylen's face. She touched the rough bits on his cheeks where scars had formed, then the strands of hair that lingered over his red eyes.

"If you are a demon, then clearly you'd either be envy or sorrow, tell me something only Daylen would know, something that wouldn't make me feel sad or angry," she commanded.

"You have a disturbing interest in shoes, 'oooh the shoes'," Daylen cooed in a clear mockery of Leliana's accent.

Again Varric and Durad laughed, until Cassandra shoved the bigger man's chest. They looked at Leliana and saw some of the tears in her eyes.

"Although," Daylen chuckled, "That's probably something that makes you feel sad too," he sighed.

"I fear confirming what Daylen is or isn't will have to wait, the Breach still remains, the longer we wait the worst it and Durad's mark will become," Solas explained.

"GAARGH!" Durad yelled as his mark began to surge with green energy, the Qunari gripped his arm trying to numb the pain. "Thanks Solas, you just had to go and remind the Fade didn't you?"

Leliana shook her head and Daylen was shocked to see the coldness in her eyes as she walked away.

"We must form a perimeter, my archers will stay on the high ground, Cassandra I'm afraid you and your men will be in the thick of the fighting," the hooded woman turned to the Dalish warrior and opened her mouth to speak.

"Save your orders Shemlen, I am no chantry puppet, I came here to find out what happened to first of clan Lavellan, that's what I intend to do," the elf explained.

She brandished her sword and waiting for the other warriors to move in front. Durad looked up at the breach, it was shaped in such a way that its epicenter matched the shape of the crater. Across the sides of the crater were veins of Red lyrium. Again Varric's usual demeanour faded with every step he took. Even the usual stoic Solas and Cassandra seemed disturbed by its presence. Near the very centre of the crater was another rift, though slightly bigger than the others Durad had seen, it also seemed more powerful based on the green crystals that formed around it.

Gripping his hand, Durad began to feel the pain again. The breach reacted to the very presence of his mark. Climbing over the ruins and avoiding the mutilated bodies, the diverse group of warriors began to assess their surroundings.

"This Rift was the first, it is the key," Solas said.

"As I said archers can position themselves at the high points, whilst the soldiers remain in the crater, draw the demons to you," Leliana stated.

"We don't have the numbers to form a shield wall, that and the Qunari will be in the thick of the fighting too," Cassandra explained.

"Me? But I'm an archer too," Durad said.

"You need to be within the Rifts range in order to effect it," Solas said.

"What do the archers have to fall back on?" Daylen asked.

"Knives mostly," Leliana said.

"Knives? What about daggers, short swords at least?"

"We were supported only by Justinia, she didn't have many supporters who could supply us," Cassandra said.

"Clearly," Daylen muttered.

He looked at the area and the position of the Red Lyrium shards and jagged rocks.

"I have an idea, Cassandra and Lavellan will protect Durad," Daylen said.

"I do not take ord..."

"I respect your pride Miss Lavellan but it'll get Durad killed and right now he's the only hope you have of stopping a breach that like it not affects your people too," Daylen explained, interrupting the woman's outburst.

"Trust me when I say this, it's best to listen to the guy who basically saved the World a Decade ago," Varric said.

"Solas, you and I will support and cover anyone in need of aid as when they need it, Leliana have your people get into spots of cover, have them continually weave between cover and take shots at the demons. Varric do you have any other tricks besides that crossbow?"

"A few gasses and smoke bombs mostly, all of my good stuff got taken away from me," Varric looked towards Cassandra.

In Response the Seeker snorted in irritation and expatriation, "And yet you still manage to hide something from us."

"The plan is sound, if need be I will be able to give you Lyrium potions," Solas said.

Daylen picked his sword up off of the ground and nodded to the others. Durad and his company walked along the rocks and began climbing down the crater. It was there, towering over them so suddenly and so simply it was hard to believe it.

The light going down to the world from the Breach was a mere hundred feet away. Within it, like some dwarven puzzle box, a lump of green stones shaped like cylinders pressed and cracked against one another, constantly shifting in some strange dance. Durad couldn't help but notice that it was hovering over the spot where once the cathedral before the temple itself had stood.

He also couldn't stop himself from briefly remembering what the fade had felt like:

Dark tendrils clawing at him.

Cries of agony...

Demons roaring...

A city of dark spires and grief...

A warm hand...

"Keep the sacrifice still," an ominous voice filled the air. The voice had a strong baritone which gave the impression of confidence and detached arrogance.

Everyone came to the same conclusion that this deep and fierce voice was coming from the rift. Durad felt a particular pain the closer he got to the rift.

"Please help me," spoke another.

"I know that voice," Daylen said.

"Do you?" Durad asked.

"Don't you remember?"

"That is Divine Justinia's voice," Cassandra said.

"What's going on here?" yet another voice filled the ruins.

"That was you, the most holy called out to you," the Seeker said.

The rift suddenly flashed and the group covered their eyes for a moment. When they opened their eyes they saw a shadow floating over them. It had long arms and clawed hands and its eyes glowed red as it raised its hand over the ghostly form of Devine Justinia. An image of Durad suddenly appeared between the two, looking at them with equal bewilderment and anger.

"What's going on here?" he demanded this time.

"Run while you can, warn them!" Justinia said.

The shadowy figure looked towards Durad.

"We have an intruder," it said. "Slay the Qunari!"

Again the Rift flashed and the images faded, but the revelation remained.

"You were there," Cassandra said, advancing on Durad. "Who attacked? And the Devine...is she? What are we seeing?" she asked.

Solas tapped the tip of his staff on the group as he looked up at the rift.

"I don't remember!" Durad growled at Cassandra, hoping she would back off.

"Echoes of what happened here," Solas suddenly spoke.

He turned to the others and like a Senior Enchanter spoke clearly of the Rift.

"The Fade bleeds into this place, this rift is not sealed but it is closed, albeit temporarily. I believe that with the Mark, the Rift can be opened and then sealed properly and safely."

"Whatever is on the other side will come through, I hope your formation will prove effective," the Dalish woman said to Daylen.

"It's all down to how well we fight," Daylen admitted.

He kept a tight hold of his sword as the other soldiers began drawing their blades. Leliana and her archers drew back their bow strings as Durad approached the rift. He looked at the mark for a moment before taking a deep breath, bracing himself mentally and physically for what he was about to do. The pain in his hand faded as he gripped the rift with the mark, the green beam wrapped around the crystals like a hand. He stretched his fingers and began to open the rift. Like a cave giving way the rift opened and beams shot out onto the ground. One of the beams formed a very large shape over some of the warriors. Suddenly, the shape morphed into a grey skinned creature with four eyes and horns stretching out of the back of its head. It fell onto its feet, towering over the chantry soldiers and letting out a roar. Images of what happened at the tower flashed before Daylen as he identified the demon, one he had first encountered during his Harrowing and afterwards during Uldred's coup.

"EVERYONE SCATTER!" Daylen yelled.

Electricity surged through the Pride demon's claws. It laughed sinisterly before smashing its hands down on the ground. A purple aura covered its skin and the sword of an eager warrior was shattered in two.

"It made armour, I've never seen it do that before," Daylen gasped.

"NOW!" Cassandra yelled, swinging her sword down.

The archers began firing at the Pride demon, their arrows useless against its armor. It dragged its arm across the floor, grabbing one of the warriors and throwing him across the temple. The strength of the throw and the distance was enough for the man's bones to shatter when he landed. Varric moved behind the soldiers, firing bolts that actually stuck into the demon.

"Varric, don't aim for the eyes, even when you take those out it can still see. Solas, if you know the spell cover our fighters in a defensive barrier, men group up so that the spell is effective. LELIANA HAVE YOUR MEN MOVE BETWEEN COVER!" Daylen yelled.

"You are not in charge here!," Cassandra said.

"Do you have better orders Seeker?" Durad asked.

He fired one arrow after another, hitting the bolts attached to its body and digging them in further. Durad slid across the ground as the Pride demon stampeded towards him. He avoided a blow that threw two men back. More demons began appearing from the rift, wraiths, followed by shades and rage demons. Solas swung his staff around and released a wave of cold, slowing the movements of the wrath demon. Then he fired multiple spirit bolts, shooting the demon to pieces. Varric got in close to a shade and stabbed its eye with his bayonet. He then shot the pride demon in the back, drawing its attention away from some of Leliana's archers.

"I liked it better when Hawke got their attention," Varric yelped as he avoided an electrical blast.

The Pride Demon swept its arms around, creating an electrical whip. Durad dived at Daylen, pushing him out of the way.

"Okay, that's new," Daylen said.

Durad's horns sparked for a moment, but both ignored what had happened and looked towards the demons approaching them. Durad hit one with an arrow and Daylen cut another down. He gathered fire into his hands and formed a line in front of the soldiers, burning the shades that tried to attack them. A wraith fired a blast, hitting Daylen in the shoulder. He swung around, throwing his sword through its neck. Pulling his arm back, he manipulated the sword in midair with the small knowledge he had in force magic. Whilst he couldn't crush rocks or slow enemy movements, he knew how to move objects. Spinning the sword like a saw, he split a shade in half and launched the sword into the air. Daylen broke off into a run, jumping off of a rock and catching the blade in midair. He swung the sword, catching the Pride demon's side.

"Damn it, I was trying to use fire," he said.

He ducked and avoided the demon's arm, then stabbed the sword into a wrath demon's gut. Throwing the wrath demon on top of the Pride demon's foot, Daylen joined Solas in pelting the creature with fire spells. Like bombs they exploded against the monsters skin, causing it to step back. Cassandra shielded herself from the splash of the flames and cut the Pride demon's heel. A surge of force magic knocked her back and the Pride demon swung another lightning whip around, drawing Solas and Daylen back. Durad fired three arrows that finally penetrated the Pride demon's skin. He looked to his side to see the Dalish woman beheading two demons with a single swing of her sword. They briefly looked at one another, though she kept her scowl Durad grinned and nodded to her with respect.

"Amell!," Solas yelled , throwing a lyrium potion to Daylen, who immediately catches the potion.

Daylen poured the contents down his throat and felt his magic charge. He slashed two wraiths that approached him, cursing as the sword broke when he pulled it out of the last one. Cassandra jumped onto the Pride demon's back, charging her sword with a holy smite before plunging it through the demon's skin. It roared in agony and rage and began to flail about. Leliana stabbed a shade that tried to climb out of the crater and looked towards Cassandra in concern.

"Oh shit," Varric muttered.

Solas created a barrier around himself as the Pride demon approached. When the Pride Demon struck him, he was protected from the real damage the blow would have dealt. It left Solas weak however and he had to lean on his staff for support. He and Daylen widened their eyes as the Pride Demon threw Cassandra off its back. Durad threw his bow aside and ran to intercept Cassandra, catching her before she struck the ground. The weight of her armor and the momentum of the landing pushed Durad onto his back.

"SEEKER LOOK OUT!" Varric yelled.

Durad and Cassandra looked to the Pride demon, gasping as it created a ball of electricity.

The Demon grinned sadistically as it focused more of its power, preparing the launch the ball of electricity at the Seeker and the Qunari.

"NO!" Daylen yelled.

He moved at the exact same time the Pride demon released its magic. Everyone, even Solas widened their eyes as Daylen's form faded slightly, like a ghost. Like lightning he moved towards Cassandra and Durad, tackling them both with such force that all three of them narrowly avoided the demon's attack.

"What did I just see?" Varric asked.

"I had heard rumours, but truly, the hero of Ferelden is a Knight-Enchanter," one of the soldiers said.

The Dalish woman spat as she charged at the Pride demon.

"Knight-Enchanter? No, he wasn't taught by those Chantry sycophants, he learnt the original techniques of my people unsullied by the Shemlens, he is an ARCANE WARRIOR!" the woman yelled the name of her people's greatest warriors proudly.

That pride empowered her to such a degree that she was stronger than a personification of pride. Her sword ripped through the demon's chest and pulling the blade upwards, the warrior slashed open her enemies flesh. Daylen grit his teeth together as he used his force magic, ripping Cassandra's sword through the monster's body. It flew into her hand and she blessed the blade with her Templar abilities. Running as fast as she could, Cassandra impaled the Pride demon just as the other soldiers mopped up the last of the lesser demons. The Pride demon began floating lifelessly into the air, turning into green ribbons as the Rift surged.

"NOW!" Solas yelled.

Durad turned to the rift and raised his hand, and like before he used the power of the mark. The green line linking him to the rift crackled, causing him great pain. Yet something drove him to keep his hand still, to see it through until the end. He looked up at the breach as it began to shrink, hopeful that he had achieved something he could be proud of, that today he could be the hero. Suddenly, the rift flashed and knocked Durad back. The dust settled and the survivors looked up at the sky.

"Incredible," Varric said.

"He failed," Cassandra said.

"Not entirely, the breach is stable for now, there is no more danger of it growing, the same applies to Adaar's mark," Solas explained, kneeling by Durad's side.

"Is he all right?" Leliana asked, walking over to the group.

"Yes, you will be pleased to know that your friend is also safe," Solas said, gesturing to Daylen.

It seemed that exhaustion had also caught up with Daylen Amell. Leliana looked down at him with great difficulty. Even unconscious his eye lashes fluttered as they did ten years ago.

'This man, he truly is Daylen Amell,' she thought.

Seeing him hurl himself selflessly towards two strangers, without regard to injury, recognizing his intellect, his fighting style, even the way he moved and talked all confirmed what Leliana hoped. She knew that the unconscious man at her feet was Daylen Amell, the hero she followed ten years ago, the friend she would have done anything for and the man she even loved once. But that had been many years ago, the Maker had given Leliana a new purpose.

'And perhaps a new hero as well,' Leliana thought as she looked towards Durad.

Perhaps he would be the one to make the sacrifices Leliana knew Daylen wouldn't.

Next Chapter 5: Haven

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Hope everyone enjoyed the chapter, the Lavellan character is 00virtuezero's and will play a role as a party member. I intend to include the Cadash and Trevelyan origins, either my own designs or if any of you have profiles send them to me, the rules however are that the human character must be female and the dwarf male, though I might make an exception if the profiles and their origin into the story is good.

Next time Daylen begins to learn what happened when he was away.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age

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Resurrection

Chapter 5: Haven

**"You have failed!"**

He looked at his surroundings, complete darkness, save for the lights that appeared whenever that voice echoed in his ears.

**"The Chantry is failing as you always said it would, your adopted home and the entire world is burning, the magic is returning. Soon all of Thedas will be consumed and the world will be the playground of creatures whom do not understand this world and will in turn not be understood. Conflict will spread, war will come and the fires will consume the new world. Unless you do something about it boy, remember what I told you, true tests NEVER END!"**

Daylen's eyes snapped open, immediately taking in his new surroundings. His eyes fluttered as they adjusted to the light of day. The clouds had obviously cleared outside of the wooden hut he had been placed in. He had been given a cot to lie on, it was clean enough but most would probably have found it uncomfortable. In truth Daylen found it to be one of the most comfortable things in the world. He had gotten so used to discomfort, accepting luxuries was difficult for him. He spotted his armour on one of the tables. He still had his own clothes on, grey gloves that covered his wrists, black trousers with black boots and his black shirt/robe. It was short sleeved and the lower part reached to his knees, the front of it was opened so no one could call it a skirt. Daylen rose from the bed and looked at the woman sitting at the table. There she was, Leliana, his old friend and confidante, her hood was finally off and Daylen could look at her face uncovered. She had indeed aged, though one would have to have known her as well he had to see it. The signs of aging were in her eyes, they had less hope than Daylen remembered.

"Your eye lashes flutter when you dream," was the first thing she said to him.

"Told you it was me," he said.

"It must truly be the end times if the Maker is bringing the dead back to life," Leliana said.

"Maybe there is some truth to your beliefs, I'd be evidence of that," Daylen sighed in defeat.

Leliana stood and beckoned for Daylen to follow her, putting on her hood before she reached the door. She opened it and again Daylen had to adjust to the light. The clouds had indeed cleared and Daylen was able to look at a place he thought he'd never see again. He recognized the town as Haven, though the architecture was slightly different, the Chantry was grander and the paths were cleared of snow. People had gathered at the gate, near one of the huts.

"The Qunari is recovering in there," Leliana said, seeing Daylen's interest.

He looked to the sky and saw the breach. It wasn't the raging singularity it was before, rather a peaceful ripple in the sky. Whatever had happened in the temple, the breach had been stabilized. As they walked along the path to the Chantry, Daylen noticed the dwarf Varric standing by one of the smiths. He wasn't wearing his grand coat or carrying his crossbow and stood looking at Daylen with his arms crossed.

"Should've known the cousin of The Champion would be the first to awaken," the dwarf grinned, he had worded it like the lines of a book.

"Cousin?" Daylen looked at the dwarf in confusion.

"A conversation for another time, unless the Seeker decides to put you in chains and drag you off to Val Royeaux," Varric said.

Despite the comment he still smiled confidently as Daylen continued following Leliana. They walked into the Chantry and Daylen saw a different place than he remembered. It was more like a church now, comparable to what he had seen at Redcliffe and Lothering. The sisters and other priests were dressed in different robes though, not the baggy brown robes he remembered, but pure white robes, decorated with red hoods, sashes for the men and hats for both that bore the sunburst mark. Whatever prayers or conversations they had been having halted as soon as they looked upon him. He raised his hand and waved with a sheepish smile, causing Leliana to shake her head with a look he remembered better from Morrigan.

"They should both be in chains, especially the Abomination, why are we not treating them both like the criminals they are?" he heard a voice ask behind a doorway.

"Have some gratitude chancellor, the prisoner and...Daylen Amell," a voice Daylen recognized as Cassandra's spoke before she was interrupted.

"What proof do you have that that is indeed the hero of Ferelden? All accounts say that the Hero died at the Battle of Denerim, all rumors of his return post then have been proven a false hope. No, this creature is not him, it would be foolish to think otherwise," the 'Chancellor' explained.

"He fought alongside us and had plenty of opportunity to betray us, yet he hasn't and sister Leliana..."

"Sister Leliana? What proof do we have that she took a vow? Especially considering the clandestine work her being the Left Hand of the Devine required."

"Do not interrupt me again Chancellor," Cassandra said firmly.

Ignoring the conversation, Leliana knocked on the left door.

"Come in," a voice said from the other side.

"Josephine, have we received word yet from those I wanted contacted?" Leliana asked as she entered.

Daylen followed afterwards and looked upon a face he didn't recognize. She was noble, that much Daylen could tell and well educated. The woman was also beautiful, smooth brown skin, dark hair tied neatly . Her body was small and she held herself like a scholar, holding her quill perfectly. She wore fine gold and blue clothes, based on their design and her perfect accent Daylen could tell she was Antivan and not Rivaini. Josephine's eyes grew wide slightly when she saw Daylen.

"Josephine," Leliana clicked her fingers impatiently.

"Oh apologizes, alas a response from Amaranthine has not yet arrived," the woman sighed.

"Damn, I had hoped that the Warden Commander had returned, still at least Oghren perhaps knows," Leliana said.

"Oghren, Warden-Commander, how are these two connected?" Daylen asked.

"There is clearly much you two have to talk about," Josephine said.

"No, this can't wait, the Rebel Mages, were we able to get word to Irving?" Leliana asked.

"The Rebel Mages are refusing our attempts to contact them, though they seem to have accepted the news of Lord Amell's return very well!"

"I'm not a Lord," Daylen said.

"Actually you were posthumously knighted by King Alistair, and when your cousin retook the house Amell on her request the Viscount posthumously awarded you as 'Lord and last of the Amell branch family,'" Josephine said, putting a hand to her mouth as Leliana glared at her.

"Last of the branch family, but my mother had children after I was born, or so I remember hearing, and my uncle was still young enough to marry and provide children," Daylen explained.

"I am sorry, but the return of the Amell lordship lasted as long as the Divine's reign I'm afraid," Leliana said.

Daylen lowered his head slightly and sighed as if he was tired. He was upset, but at the same time relieved, concerning his part of the family he had only heard vicious rumors. It felt good to know the truth, even if it was a harsh truth.

"Please continue Josephine," Leliana said.

"We have not received a return message from Arl Teagan of Redcliffe," Josephine sighed.

"Teagan became the Arl of Redcliffe? Good for him," Daylen smiled genuinely for the first time.

"As for his Majesty King Alistair, well I feel it is best if you read the letter for yourself Leliana," Josephine said.

She handed Leliana the parchment and the red haired lady began to read it, keeping it away from Daylen. He however could read over her shoulder and spotted some of the words.

_"If this is a joke in poor taste, you will be the first person I've ever had executed old friend, you have my sympathies for the divine's death. Leliana really has gone mad if she thinks that bastards come back from the dead, granted I'm a bastard too but in the end he proved to be the bigger bastard...wait are you writing down everything I'm saying?"_

Daylen rolled his head back and laughed, Leliana however regarded the letter more severely.

"That's definitely Alistair, did you get a response from Zevran?" Daylen asked.

"He was the first to respond, remarkable considering he was estimated to be the last to receive the message," Josephine said.

"What was the message?"

"He wanted me to give you something, it might also be a way to figure out if you're really who you say you are," Leliana said.

"Do you still doubt me?" the mage asked, slightly hurt by Leliana's words.

"It matters not, come Josephine we must meet with Cullen and Cassandra," Leliana said as she coldly turned to the door.

"Leliana I have a right to know what my friend's thoughts on me being back..."

Daylen's eyes grew wide in shock as Leliana gripped the back of his head and pushed her lips against his. He opened his mouth to protest, but her tongue immediately shot through, brushing against his and tracing the top of his jaw. Leliana gave their lips a firm push before breaking from the kiss, touching her own lips as she separated from him.

"That was...impressive Leliana," Josephine grinned.

"It's definitely him," Leliana said

"How could you tell that from a kiss?" Daylen asked.

"The taste of your mouth, and how hesitant you were when we kissed, Zevran really wanted to kiss you once," Leliana explained.

She fixed her hair and opened the door, revealing the 'Chancellor' and Cassandra.

"This isn't over Seeker, people will hear of this, if you exalt this creature and that criminal then it will be the end of the Chantry as we know it," he said before walking away.

"Good to know chantry politics hasn't changed, what did he mean about exalt me and the Qunari?" Daylen asked.

He looked into the room Cassandra and the Roderick had used and saw a table with a map had been set up. Curiously regarding the map from the corner of his eye, Daylen saw it was of Ferelden and Orlais, as well as the surrounding areas. A good map but not one Loghain would have recommended to him. Daylen yelped slightly as Leliana shoved him into the room. There he saw Cassandra and Cullen again, both casually resting their hands on their swords.

"Hello," Daylen said, rubbing the back of his head nervously.

"Welcome to Haven Ser Amell," Cassandra said.

"I'm not a..."

"You were awarded a knighthood posthumously," Josephine reminded.

"I swore no oath and I wear no armour, I'm no knight," Daylen said.

"Yet you were trained and battle tested more than any other knight in the realm, at least in recent years," Cullen said.

Again Daylen looked at the map and saw nothing that could remind him of how things had changed. The 'Organization' or Chantry, whatever Cassandra and Leliana was leading were clearly using old equipment. Either the Chantry wouldn't properly fund them or they were acting outside of Chantry support.

"I remember what happened at the temple," Daylen began, running his hand over where the temple was on the map. "It was different than it was before, something had been hosted there, a Conclave right?" he asked, looking to Cassandra.

"Yes, the conclave had been led by Divine Justinia herself," the Seeker said.

"Who was she?" Daylen asked.

"A reformist, one of the most controversial Divines in history, she was the Grand Cleric at Lothering whom convinced me to join the cloister and helped me to resolve things with Marjolaine the first time I was betrayed," Leliana explained.

"In what way was she a reformist?"

"She was investigating ways to reform the Circles," Leliana said.

"But things fell apart, what happened in the ten years I was gone?"

There was a depressed tone in Daylen's voice, but his eyes grew redder with every bit of bad news Cassandra revealed.

"In 9:37, in Kirkwall, a mere three years after the Viscount was killed by a Qunari occupation force, a string of revolts within the Circle Tower at the Gallows occurred. These revolts were supposedly spurred on by abuses carried out under the command of Knight-Commander Meredith, whom had become a defacto authority in the city and delayed the anointment of a new Viscount."

"Though it should be worth mentioning that Justinia believed that the situation in Kirkwall was spurred on by an outside group, there were resolutionists in Kirkwall at the time, as well as several accounts of there being Tevinter slavers active," Leliana added.

"Indeed, despite the efforts of the city's champion to keep the peace, more and more Meredith's suspicions began to be proven right. But the worst happened when an apostate and former Grey Warden, Anders, carried out an attack on the Grand Cleric Elthina, he deliberately wanted Meredith to invoke the right of Annulment. The city fell into chaos and the Mages defended themselves, yet still resorted to blood magic even with the support of the Champion and her companions. In the end Meredith was killed and the Champion exiled from the city," Cassandra explained.

"Meredith had gone out of control, and Hawke was the only one who maintained any semblance of sanity, she stopped the Knight-Commander when she went too far, demanding the execution of the innocent," Cullen said, lowering his head as if he felt guilty.

"That was the first stone cast in the 'Mage rebellion', the most holy did what she could but there were other concerns, Empress Celene was pushing towards peace with King Alistair, whilst facing rumors from the court that she favored the elves. At the time Grnad Duke Gaspard De Chalons claimed that Celene was abandoning the traditions of the Empire and through both the court and the military began moving to take his throne. Civil War was upon Orlais, and the situation with the elves only grew worse, when a nobleman killed an elf riots broke out in the elven slums of Halamshiral," Cassandra continued, pointing to the city on the map. "Something had to be done to quell the unrest, the Chantry could not afford rebellions from both elves and mages, and so the most holy delivered an ultimatum to Celene and turned her attentions to the situation with the mages. Grand Enchanter Fiona and several other First Enchanters voted on independence from the Chantry, at the same time the former Lord Seeker Lambert van Reeves annulled the Nevarran Accords, separating both the Templars and the Seekers of Truth from the Chantry, both groups seek the destruction of the other and the implementation of laws that would empower their organizations, that was why Justinia called for a Conclave."

"It seems Justinia's fears of an outside group spurring on the conflict could be true, you saw what had occurred at the temple Daylen, the Breach was of someone's design," Leliana said.

"The fact that it was the Conclave must mean something, a strategy," Cullen suggested. "And whoever apparently spoke at the Breach... he's surely dead, but couldn't have worked alone. Whatever group that is, whatever their agenda, they are our enemies."

"Unfortunately the rest of the Chantry do not see it that way, they believe our reports are falsified, we have unfortunately been ex-communicated and denied any support outside of our local resources," Josephine said.

"How bad is it?", Daylen asked.

"Before the explosion, we'd gathered a good two thousand recruits to be the backbone of the Chantry's new army. They were still being trained by a small core of loyalist templars and being equipped by the Chantry when the Breach came into being." Cullen shook his head. "The losses have been catastrophic, we have less than eight hundred effective left, the demons left few wounded, but those who are will either soon succumb to their wounds or end up as crippled for life." The man's sword-hand clenched into a fist at the words, but his expression remained a frown rather than the anger or pain he seemed to feel at the admission. "I have elected to stay on as commander despite this..." He shrugged. "...there's no one else."

"The losses were inevitable, given the situation, we've been through that already." Cassandra quickly snapped, hesitating at giving Cullen's shoulder a squeeze before simply letting her hand fall back. Looking back to Daylen , she shrugged. "Those that remain are in poor shape too, they need time to recover, to heal."

"Yes. And to add to that we now have a supply-problem." Cullen growled, looking down at the map, as if seeing something the others didn't in the jagged lines. "With the Divine dead we have no authority to direct us".

"We act on the authority of the most holy, even in death," Cassandra suddenly slammed a book onto the map, it bore the same mark that was on the armor of the soldiers and was extremely thick, bigger than some books Daylen had read. "This writ grants us the authority to carry out Justinia's last will, to reform the Inquisition of old, to close the breach and restore order. We need a rallying figure and a leader, if you truly are the Daylen Amell as Sister Leilana has told me about, then you are the one best suited to lead us."

The Seeker looked at Daylen as if she was expecting an obvious answer. Josephine looked hopeful, while Cullen had a somewhat weary look. Leliana however turned away when he looked at her.

"You said the Divine gave Celene an ultimatum, how did she do this and what was the ultimatum?" he asked.

"I, as left hand of the Divine delivered Justinia's message to the empress, she was to quell the rumors regarding her favouring the elves or no support to her claim would come from the chantry," Leliana stepped back as Daylen walked towards her.

He looked her in the eyes and tilted her head up.

"How did Celene quell the rumours?" he asked.

"She burnt the elven slums, it was a massacre," Cullen said.

"But Celene does now have the support she surely needs and her negotiations with Ferelden are continuing," Josephine said.

"Are you justifying this?" Daylen asked, turning to Josephine in anger.

He looked at Cullen, Cassandra and then back to Leliana, his eyes reflecting the anger welling up inside him.

"Do you think this was a good thing, that the hundreds, probably thousands of people dead because of Celene's actions are a good thing?" he asked.

"She did what she had to do at the time Daylen, I feel sorry for the elves but it was necessary, what we do will be necessary," Leliana said.

"How much blood do you have on your hands now Leliana? Enough to make me regret following Alistair's advice, look at the situation now, did it help?" Daylen asked.

"Things would be much worse," Josephine said.

"They are much worse, for the elves, for the mages and no doubt for the families who have lost loved ones because of the Chantry's selective favoritism. You speak of your divine as if she was some great saint, a 'reformist', from what I've heard so far she did what any other divine would have done, turned her back when a people were oppressed and denied justice. If she really did have power she could have made it holy law for elves to be treated equally, for them to be granted justice instead of oppression," Daylen explained.

"It's easy to react with righteous indignation when you were not there and have little understanding of the situation."

The entire room turned towards Cullen as he interrupted Daylen's rant.

"Are you actually defending The Empress for purging the Alienage's!?" Daylen exclaimed in shock and anger.

Cullen narrowed his eyes and tightened his grip on his swords pummel, "No I am not defending Celene's decision, however you have been gone for almost a decade, you have little to no knowledge of what transpired and state of current events."

The Commander closed his eyes calming himself and opened them again showing weariness, "Sometimes there's no good choice, and sometimes the least bad choice dooms a person's name forever. Sometimes we mean well but go too far; sometimes going too far is the only way to go far enough. Some of the structures that hold up our world are built on events that we find unthinkable."

"After Kirkwall feel into anarchy with Meredith dead and the Champion gone, I was appointed Knight-Commander of Kirkwall in order to restore stability and bring order to the city. I… had to make tough choices and they often had to responded with a show of force to the point where people ended up injured or dead."

Cullen traced his gloved finger down the scar on his upper left check almost as recalling how he gained the scar, "You try not to get anybody killed, and you wind up getting everyone killed."

Daylen just stared at Cullen in slight disbelief and pity, He put a hand to his head as he looked at where Kirkwall was on the map. Leliana could tell that he was close to crying, though it was hidden well from the other strangers.

"Anders," he whispered. "He never had love for the Chantry or the circles, but the Anders I knew was a healer, he never would've resorted to cold blooded murder!"

"I wish I had known the Anders you knew," Varric called out.

The five turned to the doorway, slightly shocked by the dwarves sudden appearance. He enjoyed being able to surprise people, though he dropped his smirk when Cassandra looked at him.

"I think it's better if he hears about what happened at Kirkwall from the eyes of a firsthand witness," the dwarf said.

"I can tell him," Cullen said.

"Everything about Kirkwall curly," Varric retorted. " Not just the Aftermath."

Cullen looked up at his hair, taken aback by the dwarves nickname whilst Josephine hid a giggle. Leliana moved to touch Daylen's shoulder, but recoiled in shock as static electricity pricked her hand. Daylen followed Varric out of the Chantry, leaving an ashamed friend behind. Sleet was falling from the sky, but the day was sunny and people were hard at work. Haven had become more military outpost than village, young and old men lined up at the smithy to receive equipment and instruction. It seemed that the lingering dread of the breach was forgotten, replaced by new interests. Either people tried to bury themselves in work or they looked at one of the huts anxiously.

"The Herald still hasn't woken up yet," Varric said, answering the question before Daylen could speak.

"You mean the Qunari?" the mage asked.

"Yeah, a few people are starting to call him," Varric coughed to contain a laugh, "The Herald of Andraste," he spoke the title as if he was telling a story.

"I wonder who coins these names," Daylen said.

"Probably the kind of person you least expect, like a beardless dwarf," Varric grinned.

"And then the cycle of history repeats, a hero is risen and used for an agenda!"

"Wow, you're much more bitter than Anders described you as, though it's understandable given the circumstances," Varric said as he led Daylen into the tavern.

They took a table in the corner, away from the staring faces. A minstrel was singing, occasionally going out of tune after looking at the new arrival. It was a rare thing for her too but the people were too distracted to care. Varric put a few coins in the bar maids hand, adding a few extra for her to distract some of the other drinkers. Once they were settled on the stools Varric reached a hand out to Daylen.

"Varric Tethras, head of House Tethras and Deshyr of Kirkwall's Merchant Guild as of 9:34 dragon, rogue, story teller and occasional adventurer."

Daylen shook the dwarves hand and smiled.

"First surface born dwarf I've met," he said.

"How did you know?" Varric blinked in surprise.

"Most dwarves I've met look up at the sky as if they're going to fall into it," Daylen laughed.

"Oh shit yeah, Bartrand would get that look on his face even after decades on the surface, I can tell you the story of my family's rise from Orzammar, but it would be boring and probably filled with a lie or two. Right now I'm putting a little more truth into my stories, specifically the one I'm most famous for (or infamous depending on who you ask), the tale of the Champion."

He nodded a thank you to the barmaid and poured the drinks she had served. The dwarf then crossed his fingers together, took a deep breath and began the story of another Amell.

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The Amell clan had once been considered the greatest family in Kirkwall. They were the perfect blend of tradition and self-determination. The head family almost always arranged their marriages and followed the law to the letter. It was the branch family that walked the path of self-determinism, yet always remaining loyal to the root family. Aristide and Fausten Amell were said to be the greatest generation of the Amell family, before them had come diplomats to the city, mainly from the head family that produced Ambassadors, Templars and Court Advisors. The branch family had produced merchants, mercenaries and even entertainers and poets. Much of the fortune of the Amell family was formed by the branch, in building terms they could be called the foundation that made the family strong. Aristide as head of the family had been known as the trader, he had made the Amells the richest family in Kirkwall and picked up many businesses from the ground up. He led his family on the basis of tradition, by a code of honour accepted by nobility, always keeping his word no matter how shady the deal may be and adhering to the letter of the law both holy and city. His younger brother Fausten had been called the warrior, specifically the Amell Knight. In his prime he was the greatest warrior the Free Marches ever knew, some argued would ever know, whether it was a duel or against bandits and even Chevaliers seeking to test their honour, Fausten bested them all. For a time Fausten even travelled across Thedas, returning to Kirkwall with a wife and an heir. He put down his sword and vowed by his own word to serve the Amell family, so long as they stayed true to the values of honour he believed in.

Solas had dreamt with spirits in Kirkwall and Fereldan and witnessed the great deeds of the house Amell, and also its fall. He witnessed the affair between Revka Amell and a foreign man, both true love and a doomed romance. He had witnessed Aristide's loss of his heir and had seen both the hatred and disapproval of Leandra's chosen love and his pride in her having chosen her own path. Solas had even witnessed the rise of the Amell's again, both in the form of Daylen Amell and Marian Hawke, both heroes in sense and simple beings doing whatever they could. Of all the memories of the fade, Solas found them to be the most tragic and the most uplifting. But he was still a man of logic and common sense and he had seen too much to believe that simple heroism and good intentions was enough, even though it was better than what most people got from supposed nobles.

"It may seem hard to believe from down here but the breach is stable, for all my knowledge however I cannot fathom you," the elf turned to the returned hero as he spoke.

Daylen's eyes were blood shot, as if he was holding in tears. Varric had told him much, the tale of the champion was not all adventure and triumph. It furthered Solas's belief that the man, creatures, whatever he was at least believed he was Daylen Amell. For all intents and purposes, he was the returned hero.

"Study of the Fade was prohibited by the Chantry," Daylen said, neither with approval or disapproval.

"I would be classed as an Apostate, a title all mages now hold as you have learned," Solas smirked slightly, but stopped as the young man lowered his head.

"I still can't believe it, Anders was possessed, and then pushed the world into a war," he said.

"Yes, although Anders's anger only further corrupted the spirit, one can argue that the spirit corrupted him also. Justice is a harsh spirit that does not often discriminate between what is necessary and what is right, they corrupted one another," Solas explained.

"How do you know that?" Daylen asked.

"To study the Fade, I do what mages always do to enter it, I sleep, I dream and I bear witness. I slept in the ruins of the Kirkwall Chantry and saw a man struggling with a demon, I saw a man willing to kill thousands in the belief it would tip the scales, and a man struggling to kill thousands if it meant freeing millions!"

"I don't understand, you saw both those things?"

"It is the Fade, both accounts are true, I have also witnessed spirits re-enact your own adventures, I'm curious to know whether they match your own memory," Solas said.

Both mages looked at one another, both with slight hostility and hope. They hoped they could come to respect one another, both had noted the others merits. Yet still there was the air of mistrust between them, both suspicious of the other. Solas still doubted what even his eyes saw, that the Hero of Ferelden had returned when he was needed most. Daylen however felt that Solas's appearance, his expertise on the Fade was all too convenient granted the event that decorated their confrontation and the world.

"At Lothering I saw bandits whom preyed on the innocent, after defeating them I had them run away and return what they stole. I was merciful, perhaps foolish but I believed that there was redemption to be made. Which was why I freed the Qunari, a proven and admitted murderer, I wanted a good fighter to aid me in my travels and I also wanted him to redeem himself. In the wilds I sought out the help of Dalish elves whom were under attack by werewolves, Zathrian demanded that I bring him the heart of their leader, a white wolf. But when I found the werewolves I found them under the leadership of a forest spirit, whom had tamed their anger, or rather directed it. To make a long story short it was Zathrian whom created the curse, revenge for his family's murder. I convinced him to end the curse, to kill himself and free the werewolves, it stopped the attacks against the clan and freed a people who had been oppressed for far too long," Daylen explained.

Daylen remained silent after that, at least for a moment. He gave Solas all the time he needed to think over what he had said, but he didn't wait to hear his opinion again.

"Doubt me if you want to Solas, I would like us to be friends but if I can't live up to your standards then it isn't meant to be," he said as he turned away.

"I believe you," the elf said, before Daylen could begin walking.

He looked towards Solas, whom continued looking up at the Breach.

"After all these years, perhaps there are things that cannot be explained," he said, his voice distant and not directed at Daylen. "Pockets of the Mage Rebellion are in the Hinterlands, some peaceful, others violent and drunk on their power. If you are seeking a point of view besides the Chantry, then the people you find on the road may be a good start," Solas explained, still not looking at the young man.

The young man put his hands together and bowed his head in thanks. Solas resumed looking at the breach, a small smile gracing his lips as he analyzed the spectacle and its possibilities. A part of him believing that he may have found a man worth respecting.

"Perhaps we don't understand everything, after all these years," he muttered.

* * *

A Dalish elf in a human village was a rare sight to see. Anyone who tried speaking to the dark haired beauty was immediately driven away by her snappy demeanor. She leant against Haven's gates, her arms crossed over her still armored chest. The young woman looked towards the black clad man as he walked past her, not trading her a second glance, regarding her as just another passerby and not a curiosity. It both intrigued and infuriated her, she wasn't a woman who liked to be ignored.

"I see they haven't decided to lock you away, Humans tend to locked and destroy whatever is not like them," she said.

"That's one thing," Daylen said.

"I hear things, things whispered amongst these people, some fear you, both specifically and what you represent, that the dead are coming back to life. Some see you as a saviour, the Seeker of course sees you as her leader. Then there's that red haired woman, Leliana, I couldn't tell if she wanted to slice open your throat or kiss you..."

"She did, kiss me at least, Leliana's been through a lot, many of my friends have, they all grieved for me and now," Daylen sighed as he went to walk to the stables.

"You're hurting as much as they are, but you know what you'll be to most people right?" the elf asked.

"I know almost nothing about what I am to the nation, to the continent, I need to find out for myself. Not just how this all happened, but why it's happening too, and not the Circle Rebellions, I know why they would do it and I know Anders did something terrible too. But the Conclave, the Breach, that Red Lyrium, me coming back, I need to find out how it's all connected and what I can do to save as many people as I can," Daylen explained.

"Apparently that's what these Shemlen are thinking of doing," Lavellan said, crossing her arms again.

Daylen took a water sack and a belt with a pouch attached to it. He had briefly considered taking a horse, but the majority of his journeying had been carried out on foot anyway.

'Why change it now?' he thought.

"You've got no coin, you're running out of time and you don't know enough about the current situation," Lavellan noted.

"I won't find out lingering here, stay safe Miss Lavellan and tell Leliana I'm sorry, I need to find out about the situation on my own," Daylen said.

He began walking down the road, breathing onto his hands and rubbing his arms as he walked. The cold seemed to be only a minor annoyance to him, the breach itself was forgotten. His focus remained on the road ahead, like any man on a journey. Even with an unknown destination he was clear in his purpose, to find a purpose.

"Good luck, Shem," Lavallan said, there was no animosity in her voice, only an acknowledgement.

* * *

Durad awoke within the confines of a cleaner house, and a more comfortable bed. He traced his hands across the fine clothes that had been put on him. Any curiosity he had over whom may have dressed him faded when the door opened. He looked across the room, scanning for weapons he could use. To his surprise the entry was an elf girl, better fed than most servants but still clearly a servant. Upon seeing him she dropped the water satchel she was holding and backed away in shock.

"Unless you're hiding a knife there's really no need to fear, the horns are just for show," Durad said.

Despite his grin the girl fumbled and bowed.

"Please forgive me, I am but a lowly servant, I didn't mean to offend you," she said.

Duraad raised his eyebrows in confusion. He had seen fearful servants before, elves mostly but there were humans employed by lords who feared him or their master's wrath. But what he was seeing from the girl was borderline worship. She slowly stood, her knees shaking, sweaty hands rubbing together.

"You are in Haven your worship, a few days have passed since the battle at the summit," the elf explained.

"I see," Durad hummed as he looked out of the window.

The day was bright and beautiful and Durad could see Haven's chantry. Men and women, both priest, soldier and villager were setting up tents and supply caches. Keeping maps and weapons on display wasn't a military strategy, but this 'organization' probably had little to no storage space. His weapons were gone, a smart move on Cassandra's account. They were still being cautious with him, he couldn't fault them for it. The caution he had come to expect was more reassuring than the worship the elf gave him. Unfortunately, the Breach was still present, though it seemed calmer than before.

"Lady Cassandra wanted to see you at the Chantry as soon as you woke up," the servant said as she hastily made for the door.

"Wait..." but the girl was already through the door before Duraad could stop her.

He considered his options, prepared himself for a fight and then took for the door. But when he opened the door and stepped out into the village of haven he found something he didn't expect. It was a crowd, that he had expected, but it was no mob or riot of fanatics or avengers. The people of haven, from the herbalists to the blacksmith all stood calmly, looking at him. Most of their expressions were unreadable, at least to Durad. They did not seem angry or grateful, for it made sense that they had heard of what he had done at the summit. He began walking down the path, past two more houses positioned either side of the hut he had been healing in. Slowly, the heads of the people turned and they watched him pass.

"At once she said, at once," the elf girl from before continually said.

"Wow, the wrath of the Seeker must be frightful indeed," Duraad muttered.

"Is that him the Ox-man?" one of the villagers asked.

"The one with the mark."

"Didn't he kill the Devine?"

"No, he saved us!"

Split opinions, Durad knew it was better for the masses to disagree on both than to agree on one. Frankly he hoped they would have agreed on him being a hero, after all fear and respect were good in equal supply. But when people feared you for the wrong thing, it only made you a tyrant, or worse a threat that needed to be eliminated. Right now people were undecided over what he was, hero, assassin, saviour, criminal, good man or bad man? Duraad knew he could never be called hero or saviour, he had played the thief and even the assassin when the situation had called for it.

'Shakrakar is going to kick my ass when he finds out about the Conclave,' he reminded himself of the Leader of the Valo-kas mercenary company and his overall boss.

Durad ignore the many gazes following her as she looked around herself, curious of her surroundings since she'd only gotten a brief look of Haven before.

Haven, once a village in the middle of nowhere, had grown following the revelation of the Temple of Sacred Ashes, yet it was still a humble village in its entirety. The houses were small and made of wood, all placed wherever they could fit on the uneven ground of the mountainside. As such, unlike many other villages, there were no clusters of houses, many sat on their own little natural terraces, surrounded by rock and snow as paths of stamped earth connected them all. Around the village that were but three dozen houses, what seemed like a hundred tents, if not more, had been erected, and Anna could see men and women working on constructing more buildings near them, longer buildings of wood clearly meant to be a more permanent barracks.

At the centre of it all though, as always, was the Chantry. The only structure of stone, it had clearly been expanded since the discovery of the Sacred Ashes. Not particularly high, it had been expanded on the breath, making it both broad and sturdy, a truly Fereldian structure. Though Anna had heard rumours that it had once been a home for a cult, there was little sign of that now. It looked like a previously poor Chantry that had recently gotten a boost of fortune, nothing more.

The Chantry was a beautiful sign of what good, honest and working men could achieve. Building was both an art and an important part of any community and Durad both respected and envied the builders. He however was a fighter, and even as he stepped into the peaceful chantry, leaving behind the nervous servant he prepared himself to fight. His fist tensed as he heard the chancellor and the Seeker arguing, over their beliefs, the events at the summit and of him of course. At that moment nothing could have been left to chance, they were both servants of the Chantry. In the end, if whoever was at the top told them to do something they would do it, because they were good servants of the system. It was a system that was necessary to keep order, but Durad didn't like it or trust it.

'Here we go,' he took a deep breath before he opened the door.

It was an office, or it had at least be repurposed into some kind of war council chamber. A table had been set in the middle of the room with a map stapled into it. Two templars stood either side of the chancellor, whom stood with a superior smile on his face as he gave them their orders.

"Restrain the Qunari and prepare him for shipment to Val Royeaux," he said.

Duraad took a few steps forward, wanting an open space to fight the Templars if need be. Both were young, probably eager to claim glory as the ones whom bound the Divine's murderer. Cassandra however had other ideas.

"Ignore that order and leave us," she said. The Seeker gave the Templar duo a cold glare.

In reponse proved to be eager to follow the Seeker's orders over the chancellor's. Both walked out of the room, leaving the Chancellor angry and two hands triumphant.

"You overstep your boundaries Seeker, he should stand trial in Val Royaex," Roderick said.

"We have had this conversation before Chancellor, it did not end in your favour then. The voice at the temple cannot be ignored, something greater is afoot," Leliana said, Duaad noticed that there was something off in her voice, and her eyes were a little blood shot.

"The Divine's killer's accomplices are on the loose, and there is the issue of the age Mage-Templar war, we cannot wait for a new Divine to be appointed we must act now," Cassandra said, both with urgency and authority.

"That is not for you to decide, this must be left in the hands of the Chantry, not your rebellious will," Roderick countered.

"It hasn't been left to my will Chancellor, it is the Chantry's will!"

Roderick looked at Cassandra in shock and confusion as she slammed a big book onto the table.

"Do you know what this is? A writ from the Divine, granting us the authority to act!"

"This was a decision the most holy made when she was still alive, if her conclave failed then we, under her authority alive or dead would gather those whom would fight against the chaos, and reform the Inquisition of old," Leliana explained.

Durad grinned as Cassandra approached the Chancellor, causing him to back away like a child being scolded.

"We will discover whom murdered the Divine, stop the Breach and restore order with or without your approval," she decreed, all but pushing the chancellor out of the door.

The Qunari/Tal-Vashoth mercenary looked at the book and smirked, everything falling into place. To restore order the Inquisition would need to stop the breach and calm the fear of the people. In order to stop the breach they needed someone who could control it. He was the best means to achieve those objectives, the people saw and knew that he was the one who could help them. The hands of the Devine also saw this and were willing to put their faith in him.

"Well, I believe that settles that," Duraad said. This was going to be easier than he tought.

Next Chapter 6: Rising

* * *

Hope everyone enjoyed the chapter, who was talking to Daylen in his dreams? You'll have to read to find out, or you can guess :)


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer:I don't own Dragon Age

Very, very sorry for the delay of this chapter, I'm going to try to update more frequently as I focus my efforts on my game and anime fics.

There's a bit of an alteration in the story here, with the presence of a new character, who is technically Canon, but the idea to use him came from 00virtuezero, and my own original ideas came in from there.

* * *

Resurrection

Chapter 6: Rising

Days had passed since Cassandra had made clear her intentions, and the intentions of the rest of the Devine's followers to revive the Inquisition of old. Durad had settled into his new equipment well, the hunting coat and mail fit him quite easily and the bow crafter for him was a much greater improvement than what he had found on the road. He walked along the path to Haven's chantry, touching the eye insignia on his chest. It was the symbol of the Inquisition, an eye surrounded by the light of the maker, or so it was the Inquisition liked people to think. For Durad it could have been the light of any other god, Maker, elven or Qunari. He understood though the need for the dramatics, even Solas had admitted to it. Since speaking with the elf earlier, Durad felt he already had one ally. Solas was a smart man and easy to talk to, his knowledge on the fade was also fascinating.

'He should be present at council meetings,' Durad thought.

There was obviously some kind of structural command to the Inquisiton otherwise everyone would have tripped over one another doing the same job. He had noticed Cullen training the troops and Leliana speaking with the spies and priesthood. Varric didn't seem to be doing anything, unless he was sneaky enough to appear as if he was doing nothing.

'Who handles negotiations here? This land must surely belong to someone,' he looked at the equipment and supplies that had been secured so far, it hadn't come from nowhere.

That's when he saw Cassandra, seemingly waiting for him at the Chantry gates. She had her arms crossed and seemed much happier (if one could place that term on her) to see him.

"It's good that the new equipment fits, but are you sure you would not prefer heavy armour?" she asked.

"Why? Cause I'm Qunari, we're all big guys so we must have to swing great swords and axes," Duraad chanted sarcastically.

"I did not mean to offend," Cassandra said.

She was hasty and Durad smirked at the flustered blush across her cheeks. Cassandra though noticed his amusement and dropped the issue, motioning for him to follow her into the Chantry. Sensing that his joke had caused her genuine anger, Durad made it a point to subtly apologise.

"You're right though, swinging big weapons would be easy for us but I trained as a hunter, plus daggers and short swords are easy to use," he said.

"Except a long sword has a better reach," Cassandra said.

"True, but once you get past the length of the blade a warrior has little defence against a knife, which is quick to use. My father taught me that when its speed against size the fight can go either way, but speed and size together, that's a hard to beat combination," Duraad explained.

"Your father was a soldier?" Cassandra asked.

"An Antaam they call it under the Qun, although specifically he was an Arvarad, the equivalent of a templar," Duraad said.

Cassandra prepared to ask another question, this time concerning how he fought Mages. She stopped however, realizing they were getting too informal. The Seeker of course admitted that days ago she had been wrong about the Qunari.

"There are warriors in the Pentaghasts as well right?" Duraad asked.

"We are a large family, we have to keep detailed records, some are warriors, administrators, merchants, etc, there's a good chance that there are Pentaghasts in any form of honest work," Cassandra said, "However the majority of the Pentaghasts are fat aristocrats who rest on the laurels of our dragon slaying ancestors."

The black haired women paused somewhat.

"In fact, the Pentaghasts were largely responsible for nearly bringing the total extinction of the Dragon species during the Steel Age, three centuries ago. "

"So basically your family became nobility because of dragon slaying, anymore left in the family?" Durad asked.

Cassandra frowned and closed her eyes. "No…not anymore."

The Kossith noticed the human's grimace, and hesitation. He thought about presses the matter further but decided against that, due to the risk of alienated the Seeker. Which mean the possibility of her keeping him on a tight leash.

Cassandra then opened her eyes and turned towards the door to the Council Chamber. There Durad met again Lady Nightingale, Commander Cullen Rutherford, and saw for the first time Josephine. He suspected she was Antivan from the design of her dress. She also looked like a Montillyet, the Valo-Kas company had done business with the family head before.

Cullen looked like he had recovered from the tough fight up the mountain, though he still had a tired expression most likely from having lost so many men. Leliana seemed upset, Durad could see the redness in her eyes.

"You've met Commander Cullen, leader of the Inquisition's forces," Cassandra said.

"Such as they are, we lost many soldiers in the valley and I fear many more before this is over," Duraad respected Cullen's realistic prediction, most other commanders he had met had been arrogant.

"This is Lady Josephine Montillyet, our ambassador and chief diplomat."

"I thought you were a Montillyet," Durad said as he took Josephine's hand and kissed it. _"_He oído que la hija mayor era la más bella!"

Josephine blushed, so shocked but also flattered by what Durad had said that she nearly dropped her writing board.

"A pleasure to finally meet you as well Senor Adaar," she said.

"And you've also already met Sister Leliana," Cassandra said, turning Durad away from his flirtations.

"My position here involves a degree of..."

"She's our spymaster," Cassandra said.

"Yes, tactfully put Cassandra," Leliana rolled her eyes.

"You weren't exactly subtle with the dark clothing and hood thing," Durad added.

"I told you that Leliana," Josephine said.

"What do you mean? I wore this because I like it," Leliana looked between Durad and Josephine in confusion.

"Oh...so it wasn't deliberate?" Durad asked, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly.

Cassandra coughed, catching the trio's attention.

"Okay then, what do we have so far in terms of resources and support?" the Qunari asked.

"Locals have begun to volunteer, a small addition to our forces, most to restore the numbers we lost at the conclave," Cullen said.

"My scouts found curious things on the roads, I'll go into more detail later," Leliana reported.

"No support will come from the Chantry I'm afraid, despite your sudden gain in popularity," Josephine said.

"Yes, the 'Herald of Andraste,' I can't say people thinking of me as a saviour will come in handy but...well it's just a few more people to be disappointed once they see what I am," Durad tapped his horns as he spoke.

"The Maker works in mysterious ways, most people see it as providence, you were what we needed when we needed it most," Cassandra stated, and Durad could tell she had put her confidence in the opinion she shared with the masses.

"This title has spread far and wide quicker than even my birds, even if we were to try to quell them."

"Which we haven't," Cassandra interrupted Leliana.

"Unfortunately it has won us little support from the nobility or the clerics, they have denounced us, and you specifically," Josephine said, writing a bit more on her board.

"So they're going to just put their heads in the sand and hope it all goes away? Why it did them well when the Blight came, and it's done them pretty well through this mage and templar war," Duraad explained.

Cullen let out a soft chuckle.

"Without either the mages or the templars the Chantry has only words to use against us," he said.

"And we have people who know better words than them, Leliana, I think we should start with a declaration to each noble house, that's for both Fereldan and Orlais, as well as the dwarven merchant guild families. We need to start spreading our intent, so far we've only said that we are the Inquisition and that we intend to end the chaos...but how? That's a very ominous message that doesn't answer many questions," Durad explained.

"I believed having our intentions a mystery would promote fear from those whom caused the conclave explosion," Leliana said.

"Oh I'm not criticising the decision Leliana, we've already got the shock and awe of our reformation out of the way, now it's time we started easing minds and sowing fear. The last Inquisition doesn't have a pleasant history, not making our intent clear will lead to the honest working people of Thedas to fear us, something I believe isn't necessary. We need possible enemies to fear us, the templars and the mages, if either are responsible then making clear our intent to find those responsible for the breach will help us to confirm who amongst them is responsible. Josephine, you know how to contact people and Varric is good with words, together you can create messages that bring the people hope, the nobility opportunity and fear and the chantry faith."

"Yes, I feel silly for not thinking of it before, I can also get my copy of the tale of the champion signed," Josephine whispered.

"During that time Cullen I believe you should collaborate with Solas, he knows more about magic than anyone here, which makes him the best to teach our troops how to outlast that magic if we come across apostates. Afterwards you and Josephine should ask the local nobility to temporarily add our own troops to bolster their local guards, in order to establish a presence in local towns. Through those patrols you'll be showing that the Inquisition is here, both to protect you and watch you."

Cassandra and the other three were visibly impressed by Durad's talent for planning. There were some holes, mainly cooperation between certain parties but with their lack of resources it was the best way to go. The seeker however wanted to get to the bigger issue, and issue she could tell was also on Duraad's mind as his eyes lingered over his hand.

"The breach is stable, as is your mark," she began by lifting Durad's hand and removing his glove.

The enchanting green glow illuminated the room, an accident on Duraad's part. He noticed Cullen's grip on his sword suddenly tighten and the quiver in Josephine's lips. But there was a wonder in his eyes, the same sort of wonder he had seen from the people of Haven and those whom had born witness to the marks power. Cassandra placed the glove back across Duraad's hand.

"Solas believes a second attempt will succeed, provided the mark has more power," she said.

"Ah, what harm could there be in empowering something we barely understand?"

"Keep that humour, it may help rationalise some of the foolish choices we must make, still, Solas has not given us reason to doubt now," Cassandra said.

"I agree with Adaar, that mark despite its power is a mystery, tampering with it may make matters worse," Cullen said.

"Then I believe we should contact the mage rebellion," Leliana chimed in.

"No, the templars would function just as well."

"We need power commander, magic power, enough power tuned to the mark..."

"Could destroy us all, templars could suppress the breach and hold the line against any demons that come through," Cullen said.

"Unfortunately neither group is willing to speak with us," Josephine added.

"Because what's keeping both groups at each other's throats?"

The five occupants were shocked by the sudden arrival of Lavellan. She stood at the doorway with her arms crossed, regarding the meeting with a distant interest. That and simply being in the chantry made her look, not uncomfortable like Durad, but angry.

"Their justified issues with one another, on the part of the mages it wouldn't matter if the world was saved if they went back to their cages. Then on the templars side, well, why shackles themselves to the Inquisition when they've just freed themselves of the Chantry? What has the Inquisition done yet?" she asked, though it was clear she was already hinting at an answer.

"We need to start getting things done, start looking for favour and not asking it," Durad clapped his hands together as he turned to the map.

"I may have something that can help us on that front, on the road to Redcliffe many refugees have gathered, there is a cleric named mother Giselle whom has asked to speak with us," Leliana said.

"Why would she want to talk to us when we've been named heretics?" Durad asked.

"Perhaps she sees differently from the other clerics, she did always distance herself from the politics of the chantry, Justinia liked her," Leliana muttered.

"There was something else you wanted to discuss with me, something about strange things going on in the road," Durad said.

Leliana walked closer to the map, running her hand over the Hinterlands.

"This place has without a doubt become the primary battleground of the mage-templar war. People are suffering, some are losing their homes, already seven villages have been ruined by the fighting, templars have been conscripting the young or butchering suspected mage sympathisers and mages themselves have been bullying people out of their homes. But it isn't just those two factions that are praying on the weak, my chief scout Harding reported a band of thieves have been raiding villages, whilst the rifts that have appeared across the region have driven wild animals mad."

"But also, and this has gone by unnoticed by most, small villages or farm land have been...well there's the thing, we don't know what has happened to them. People have begun disappearing, but chantries, they have been burnt to the ground and the clerics, butchered, I have seen savagery before but this...this is pure hatred. Mother Giselle has gathered a small band of followers, they're using the crossroads as a place where refugees can gather, there was a debate with food recently, one Giselle feared would end in bloodshed but..."

"What, why are you hesitating?" Durad asked.

"A man in a cloak and hood appeared near the camps, he broke up a fight between a group of mages and a templar, preventing Scout Harding from intervening herself. Then he briefly spoke with Giselle and took the only food they had, then proceeded to split the food and share it amongst each group of refugees, they weren't proper meals but everyone got something to eat.

"Wow, a true miracle, even better than closing a rift in the fade," Durad muttered.

"Again my scouts reported sightings of this man in the cloak and hood, he's been moving through the Hinterlands, watching fights between mages and templars, saving people when he could. This man, he's been using magic most described as similar to the Knight-Enchanters, yet no sign of a magical blade," Leliana looked down at the map for a moment before looking to Durad. "I believe wholeheartedly that this man is Daylen, he's helping people where he can, hunting, conflict resolving, even drawing the attention of wild animals and demons away from villagers."

Durad put a hand to his chin, looking at the Hinterlands and thinking of the hero of Ferelden. Once again the man was proving just how disgustingly good he was. He coddled the weak and risked his own neck in battles where only one victor could be decided. Though he was disgusted by it, on the other hand Durad found the man's actions admirable. But if it was done his way the Inquisition would be stuck in the Hinterlands for months. The breach was stable, but those responsible for it would not wait that long.

"Not everyone can endure as you can Daylen Amell," Durad had a little more spite in his voice than he wanted to portray.

Leliana though remained quiet, she was stuck between practicality and morality. Earlier on Durad had come upon her telling one of her scouts to kill a possible traitor and he said nothing. One because Leliana certainly knew more about matters of espionage more than him and two, because he agreed, traitors needed to be punished. Daylen Amell however, he had abandoned them to focus on the people who needed help the most, and he did so alone.

'He could have led this Inquisition through the Hinterlands, restored order by force, why does he hold back?' Durad wondered.

He had to go to the Hinterlands, not just to see this mother Giselle, but to find Daylen Amell and learn about this heroism of his.

* * *

Two days, two days had passed since he had left Haven, taking four hours sleep a night, eating a piece of bread and water when he could. He had no coin but for his help people had been gracious enough to share their rice or meat. Daylen had no idea whether they knew who he was, he wasn't so well known in Fereldan that people could identify him by sight, or at least he hoped. The cloak and hood he picked up on the road were helping, not just with hiding his face but warmth at night as well. He had picked up that and other small supplies from a farm that had been ransacked by mages, or at least made to look like mages. The family had been burnt alive, but the manner of the burns showed signs of oil having been poured on their skin. There was also no sign of mana, just the unique acid left by soul rot burns. Any other passerby would have assumed a mage had done the deed.

After burning the bodies to ashes, Daylen gathered and buried them and put out the flames of the house with his ice spells. The field had already been cleared of whatever produce it once had. Whoever the thieves were, Daylen suspected they were a large group and were on the move constantly. They had no desire to let the farmer and his family keep on farming, and there was no use for them being alive. Casually they massacred any in their way and took everything that could be used to feed them. That fire inside Daylen ignited again as he squeezed his hands into fists. Since finding that family (the numbers he would rather not recount) Daylen proceeded to move through the Hinterlands, marking locations for the Inquisition to use. Though he only gave them the obvious places, places he knew they would figure out eventually. There were other places one could build a camp, caverns hidden by waterfalls, groves hidden on the borders of the forest regions. Areas close to where herbs grew or minerals clung to the rocks.

The resources however were a simple donation, just enough for the Inquisition to keep going, not enough to make them stronger. He saw no need yet to give them even more strength, despite his friendship with Leliana and respect for many of its members, he wasn't going to give them his full support just yet. His priority remained on the people, the travellers, the refugees, the farmers protecting their land, chantry priest, missionaries, templars and mages alike. Whenever people needed help he went to them, taking only a small piece of whatever food and drink they had. That didn't mean Daylen was above stealing, already he'd found the results of templar and mage battles. Both sides had callously left their dead, so Daylen took valuables and purses. They didn't need them anymore, it was better to put them to use, heirlooms he could return to family if he ever found them.

His actions at the cross roads had already begun to get him noticed. Upon first arriving he came upon a healer, not a mage but a surgeon. He was a thin little man with flexible fingers. Though he would've been killed by the mages and templars clashing coincidentally where he gathered elfroot. It would have been a tragic coincidence if not for the intervention of the cloaked man. He used his fade cloak to rush through the fighting enemies, grabbing the surgeon before porting into the middle of the fight. The blast he generated knocked both enemies back, with the templar hitting his head on a rock. He closed in on his fellow mage first, grabbing his staff and redirecting his fire blast skyward. Weakening the staff with a frost spell, Daylen snapped the weapon in half before head butting the little mage. Then he turned to the templar, deflecting his sword strike with an energy shield. He then delivered a serious of blows, hard ones he had seen Sten use, Daylen had speed on his side. Both the speed his size gave him and the enhancements of his arcane warrior training enabled him to deliver a flurry of quick and hard punches to the man's face. He wasn't dead, but if he woke up again he'd have a headache.

"Ah, mage and templar, refugees coming from Redcliffe, only matter of time before the fighting reaches them, thank you, thank you, but must gather more elf root. Come to hut in the village if you want reward, be careful with magic, others may not appreciate the manner of your help," the healer rushed his thanks before leaving.

The man had an odd way of speaking, his pauses for breath had been rare and despite the trauma he moved on back to his work. Daylen didn't care for it though, he was just glad the man could work. He saw him at the crossroads treating the wounded. There was no acknowledgement but it didn't matter, the man was back to doing what he could do to help.

"Elfroot should help to treat cuts and bruises, also provides vitality boost but best not to waste it," the surgeon said as he continued to treat one of his patients.

His attention was soon drawn to a ruckus outside of the crossroads, on one of the roads. Once again a group of mages and templars were facing off. He discovered the fight through the panicked whispers of the refugees and already ran to action, much faster than the shocked Inquisition soldiers. One of the Knight-Lieutenant's was shocked when a cloaked man barged him in the back. Daylen raised his hands as he looked between the group of fighters. Four on the templar side, three desperate and young mages on a hilltop. Even further up the hilltop however Daylen could see her, a red haired dwarf in Inquisition armour with a bow knocked back. Daylen used force magic to grab one of the mages and pull him into his grip, just out of the scouts range.

"Stop fighting all of you, there are refugees on the road ahead, people who have lost their homes because of your actions," Daylen said.

"Those men attacked us first, we were just walking back to Redcliffe," the mage he was holding snarled, trying to break free from his grip.

"We are doing our duty apostate, all of you will surrender to us," said one of the templars.

"I'm not asking you to make peace with one another, if you want to fight find a better place to do it, but a lot of people will be trying to reach the refugee site, people who need help. So either take your wounded to whatever hole your groups are hiding in or to the crossroads where you can all see exactly what your stupidity is doing to people," Daylen explained.

There was a fury in his voice very few knew him to have. He had seen too much suffering today, he wasn't going to see anymore.

"What wounded?" the templar huffed as he rushed towards Daylen.

Daylen grabbed the mages hand and froze it, the same trick he used when he interrogated the draon cult member. The mage fell back screaming in agony, not enough to shock the templar out of his foolishness. He thrust his sword forward, splitting some of Daylen's cloak as he ducked. Placing his hand over the man's chest plate, Daylen closed his eyes and concentrated. To him it seemed like it took a minute for him to apply the basics of an Earth manipulation spell and apply it to another element. It was a complicated technique no circle mage until Daylen had carried out. What seemed like ages to Daylen, as a mere moment for the people watching him. The templar's chest plate vibrated and blew apart, cutting the man's chest and throwing him into the arms of his shocked comrades.

"Now you have wounded, get them both help, it may be a long wait though," Daylen said, dismissing both groups as he walked back to the crossroads.

Scout Harding knew of the hero of Ferelden, his tale was one of her favourite stories about self determinism and pure good prevailing over necessary evil. Growing up a surface dwarf hadn't been easy, but she managed to become a success as her mother had. It couldn't purely be placed on Daylen Amell's shoulders, she of course made the first step. But time and time again, when things got hard, she remembered or heard of how a mage from the circle, the last of his order gathered an army of followers when the whole country was against him.

"Never knew the hero was so...hardcore," one of her scouts said and she nodded in agreement.

She lowered her bow and began following the hero to the crossroads. Without uttering a word he began helping the people, bandaging wounds, setting bones. He allowed a boy to bite his glove as he clicked his leg back into place. Then he wrapped the leg in bandages, using three pieces of wood from a hut to keep it in place. It wasn't just scout Hardin who took note of the man's presence and actions. People whispered amongst themselves of his mage status, some in fear and others already began to spread rumours of his identity. There was one revered mother, Giselle whom looked at the young man with a vexed expression.

"No, no please don't," a templar recruit said as Daylen approached him.

"Your leg has a bad cut on it, the bleedings stopped but there's a good chance the spear was dirty, we need to clean the wound and at the same time cauterise it," Daylen said as his hand glowed with fire. "If I don't do this there's a good chance your leg will have to be amputated and you'll never chase mages again, you two..." he looked to two more templars with a fierce gaze. "If you give a damn about your friend hold him down and keep him from biting off his tongue," then without waiting for them he pushed his hand against the wound.

The templar screamed in agony, a sound that shocked most of the refugees, others however were too tired or involved in their work to care.

"I'm sorry, but a limp for a few weeks is better than phantom pains for the rest of your life, apply some salve to that burn and keep it on there with a bandage," Daylen said.

The man was already making his way to the area Giselle worked. He didn't use magic again, but was helping with carrying the already treated away. The young man gave a small wooden horse to a boy who had broken his leg. It was a sweet sight but one torn apart when Daylen took note of a conversation going on between Giselle and another chantry priest. He subtly snuck into the conversation, listening to what no one else had heard.

"If my men are to continue to fight and protect you, we must have a greater share of the rations," the man said.

"These people have lost their homes, surely we could come to a compromise," Giselle said.

"I'm sorry revered mother but we cannot afford to be kind, my men require food if we are to protect you from the mages."

"Or the templars, or the thieves, or the demons or the animals," Daylen said as he approached their conversation.

"This does not concern you stranger," the Inquisition soldier said.

"If your organisation are as benevolent as they claim, they will come with provisions for these people, for now...break the rations you have down into small chunks and dispense them evenly amongst wounded and healthy alike, water I can take care of," Daylen explained as he approached a nearby barrel.

He raised both hands, one flashed with ice and the other flared with fire. Immediately the Inquisition soldier and his allies bought their hands to their swords. Mother Giselle and the soldiers watched in awe as the young man pushed his hands together, and water poured out. Fire melted ice, heated the water and purified it, Giselle had heard of mages whom had healed, cauterised wounds, yet here a mage was using destructive magic to create water.

"You have clean water you can use, now break the bread up, as for the people fighting on the roads, I will deal with them," Daylen said.

* * *

Already Durad could see the difference that had to be made in the Hinterlands. Scout Harding was already very honest in her report on what Daylen was doing. Though Durad could still sense a degree of admiration in her voice. He, Cassandra, Varric and Solas walked in the wild lands for a few hours. Solas seemed fascinated by the effect the rifts had on the local wildlife, mentally taking notes.

"Just do as you did before Durad," he told the Vashoth.

Durad raised his hand and again was linked to the rift through the green beam that emanated from his hand. He clenched his fist, shrinking the rift down. Then with a great bang, the green energy burst and disappeared. Static electricity spread across Durad's hand, tickling his fingers and making his hand twitch for a moment. On the hilltop above he then spotted a man made pile of rocks. Keeping his bow at the ready he and his companions surveyed the area.

"It provides us with a vantage point, it's close to where the wild life gather and the nearby fortress," Cassandra noted.

"I think we all know who pointed this place out," Varric said.

Again they had been aided by Daylen Amell, and it infuriated Durad to a degree. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate the help, it was that the goodness of a single man baffled him. He had seen men who compromised without a single regret and went back to drinking with their friends and laughing at the world, and he had seen men who took responsibility, only to dive into a quagmire of guilt and despair. There were only two types of extraordinary people in Durad's world, the bad men who got things done despite doing terrible things, and the people who tried to do good only to end up hurting themselves and others around them. From how Solas and Lavellan had described him, Daylen Amell was idealistic but not stupid.

"We'll claim this place then," Durad removed the flag from his back and stabbed it into the ground.

Solas launched a fireball into the air to signal forces at the nearby camp. After an hour of waiting, Cullen's troops arrived and established a camp. Provisions were rolled out onto carts and sent down the road towards the cross. Josephine had done an excellent job of securing medical supplies from a surgeon in Denerim. They would be useless however if the refugees didn't have food and blankets, something they couldn't secure from the nobility. Much to his surprise however when the Inquisition marched onto the crossroads, they did not find the starving or dying. The refugees were sharing bread and meat and families were wrapped in furs.

"Someone's been on the hunt," Varric chuckled.

"Deer meat and bear fur, someone has already started helping these people," Solas said.

"But not in the name of the Inquisition, good luck gaining favour here," Durad huffed in annoyance.

If help and favour from the Chantry was worth gaining it wouldn't be gained here. Durad still came to the crossroads however to see mother Giselle. If the woman had something worth saying then he would listen.

* * *

He had nothing worth saying, nothing that could stop them from fighting. It made Daylen cry at first that his attempts fell on death ears. But that was only at first, when the templars drew their swords and the mages flared their magic, Daylen cut loose. The village that had become their battleground, huts burnt to the ground, ice having coated the grass and rocks rising from the ground was an ideal fighting area for him. Plenty of open spaces to throw bolts and fireballs of his own. The templars had the best training with defence, and the mages were certainly eager. Both groups were young, the brutish type, one or two veterans of their respective classes whom had grown tired of the current system but nothing that spoke of tactics or skill. Of course there was talent, some of Daylen's spells were deflected by the mages but that was only when he used an eighth of the strength of his spells. He pulled a nearby long sword into his grip and ran for the mages.

Swinging the blade, Daylen cut one of the mages down and slid across the dirt. He slammed his hand into the ground, creating a crevice that split the mages apart, one was even unfortunate enough to get his foot caught. Daylen remembered his teachings from Loghain and kept moving. It was never a smart thing to stay in one place for too long during a fight. Banter was also never a good thing, one had to control their breathing and talking in the middle of a fight was a waste. It was clear these people couldn't be negotiated with, both had made it clear they didn't care who got caught in the crossfire of their war. As the templars approached, Daylen ran straight into the middle of the group. He didn't want to turn his back to the mages, it was smart not to turn your back to any enemy but sometimes it couldn't be helped. Daylen would rather it be the templar swords than a mages fire again.

The armour of the templars was heavy, there wasn't a single scout amongst them. They were all fighters, all people who wanted to kill their enemy. He jumped back and forward, barely dodging the swipes of the enemies who had surrounded him. Much to the shock of his opponents his form turned ghostly for a moment and the blades passed through him. He grabbed one of the templars by his head, the fire in his hand melted the templar's helmet to his face. The man dropped his sword and clutched his face in agony. The helmets the templars used weren't as protective as they used to be, their faces were exposed in a manner that seemed appalling. Daylen gripped the blade of his sword and shoved the tip through one man's face. Smoothly pulling it out he employed a technique known as half swording, gripping the blade with both hands he smashed the guard into the third templars face like a mace, denting his helmet and knocking him off balance.

His other opponents weren't content to wait and that made it all the more easy for Daylen. Not staying in one spot for too long he rolled to the side, allowing the mages to shoot the templar apart with lightning and force bolts. Daylen rushed towards the mages, using his shimmering shield to block their spells. They widened their eyes in horror as he flashed towards them. Daylen slammed the guard into one of the mage's gut and punched another across the chest. He grabbed the man's staff and shoved the tip into his mouth, frying him with electricity. The other two mages looked at Daylen in terror, backing away from him as he approached. Blood had stained the right part of his hair and brow. He looked at them, his red eyes seemingly glowing with the rage he felt. He tossed the sword up, grabbing the handle with both hands. Then with a single swing he beheaded one of the men, catching the other man's throat.

"This...is your fight...too...brother," the mage said.

"Not the way you're fighting," Daylen retorted.

He raised his sword and drove it through the man's chest, straight into his heart. With all his enemies dead, Daylen allowed the tears to come out of his eyes and let out a grand yell that echoed through the air.

"I didn't want this," he said. "I DIDN'T WANT THIIIIS!"

* * *

The Seeker looked down at the Riser and smirked. His brothers smiled as well, though their sharpened teeth grated against their lips. He had been watching them, the Riser, the Herald and the Elder one, or as he liked to call that one the wannabe. All three intrigued him, unlike in the case of his brothers. Many of his brothers feared the Riser (with good reason), the others thought the Herald would be good to eat and those who had been freed of the song saw the Elder one as the charlatan he was, a false leader whom would not lead them to the new world they sought much like the Emissary and the Mother had been. He noticed the discomfort his brothers showed as the dark clouds gave way to rain.

"Aaaagh," he sighed, raising his arms and letting the rain bat against his face.

He was different from his brothers, he always had been, some doubted whether he truly was one of them. His skin was deathly pale, but firm and strong, he could almost be mistaken for a human albino if not for the slight edge his teeth had and his yellow eyes. He evenly dressed differently from the others, his armour consisting of black armour with brown cloth and chainmail, more like human armour. The finger tips of his gauntlets were sharpened like claws and the seeker symbol on his chest had been rubbed off. Most of his face was obscured by the tattered black cloak and good he wore.

"He hasn't yet picked a side, does that mean the Riser may side with us brother?" one of his kin asked.

"He's certainly more reasonable than others of his order, he'll understand our evolution, but our cause? No its would be too naive to hope he'll side with us when he hasn't yet sided with the other mages...don't cry," the Seeker said, barely looking at his kin to know he was crying.

"Pretty pathetic brother," the one beside him said.

The Seeker watched the Riser continue his march through the Hinterlands. His eyes drifted towards another figure standing on a hilltop. He was dressed in a robe that had grafted mesh and plates of armour to it, making him the perfect mix of warrior and mage. The markings across his armour were of Tevinter origin, but his face was covered by a helmet with horns that stretched outward, looking like the head and maw of a dragon. He was flanked by a beautiful (at least by the standards of those who weren't of his kin) dark haired she-elf wearing black clothing.

"What is it brother?" his kinsmen asked.

"Tevinter, they've come, it seems the Deifier will not have to endanger us after all," the Seeker let out a laugh as he revelled in the opportunity his enemies had given him, and the feel of the rain.

The rain was a forecast of the sorrow to come.

Next Chapter 7: Making the difference

* * *

Hope everyone enjoyed the chapter, again I'm sorry for the wait.

Durad flirts with Josephine, he spoke in Italian (or was it Spanish, lol, its been so long I forgot) referring to Josephine's beauty, though she probably wont be the Inquisitors romantic interest.

The Seeker was mentioned in a Dragon Age Awakening quest, his style was based on the Hand of Sauron seen in Shadow of Mordor.

The healer that Daylen saved is the Mordin (mass effect) reference character shown in a codex of Inquisition. He'll appear in the future, probably with a name (Mordin maybe :) or maybe not.

Next time, another key player in the game (of Inquisitions :) is introduced, Daylen continues to help others, and Giselle leads the Inquisition to Orlais and a confrontation with Lord Seeker Lucius.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age, Maleficus is an OC created by 00virtuezero

00virtuezero provided spelling and grammar

* * *

Resurrection

Chapter 7: Making the difference

"ALEXIUS!"

The yells of Calpernia came as no surprise to him, she marched through the halls of the castle with her usual self-righteous stride. She was formerly a slave, and dressed in a sleeveless robe more befitting a slave than a leader of the Venatori. All the Venatori wore the same white or brown robes, with their banner marked on their waists. A dragon and snake linked, a symbol of many things such as the dragons the Imperium used to worship, the power of the empire both in terms of sheer might and poisonous will. Unfortunately the snake could also be used to describe the mass of politicians whom had forced him and Alexius to side with the Venatori, a cult dedicated to a new religion and a new god. Forgetting his disdain with his current allies he cast his eyes away from the map of the Hinterlands and followed Alexius's gaze to their esteemed leader.

"We have to talk, the Elder One is not happy," Calpernia said.

"Why does he send you I wonder?" Alexius asked.

He admired Alexius, at least before the man sold out his beliefs. The magister was a practical man whom saw what the Imperium had become, an arena for snakes to continually bite at one another whilst bigger creatures pounded at the gates. Their poison could have been turned against their enemies, but instead was wasted on forever poisoning the nation, no better than Orlais. Tevinter even favored pomposity and gluttony like Orlais, both fallen empires, the only difference between them was that Tevinter was a nation of dragons. Instead of being a dragon Alexius had chosen to be the servant of a man whom fancied himself a god, a relic of ages past whom utilized Alexius's greatest weakness. Alexius loved his son more than anything in the world, he would gladly sell Tevinter out to the Qunari if it meant his son could be saved. The loss of his wife and sickness of his son were just further reminders of the unacceptable weakness love offered. Calpernia was the same, she coddled her servants when her master wasn't looking, claimed to be free when in fact she wasn't. To him it was a tragic waste, Calpernia had the beauty and ruthlessness to play the political games that had corrupted the nation, an ability to win favor with the slaves and magical potential to dominate the magisterium.

"We are also in the middle of a War Council, you are not to interrupt us," he said.

Again his eyes looked to the map, focusing on the gap between the crossroads and Redcliffe.

"The Inquisition has begun to meet with Mother Giselle's refugee group, they will gather these refugees at their base in Haven, making it much more difficult to defend," he explained.

"More mouths to feed but also more potential protectors, the Inquisition is a young organization it would be best if it was destroyed before it became a threat to our plans," Alexius nodded his head in agreement, pointing at the map. "We can have some of our casters hide as refugees, leading caravans of our troops towards Haven, your troops can march through the forest regions and then finish the Inquisition off after our internal attack!"

"I only need a few good spell casters and strong bow arms!"

"An attack will not be made against the Inquisition," Calpernia said.

The yellow eyes of the Malleus of Seheron turned to the elder one's chosen leader. Maleficus would have respected her if she had risen to her position through achievement. She had a good start, but then the elder one came and put her on a pedestal. Calpernia foolishly thought she had been chosen somehow, Maleficus knew otherwise. The Elder one may have been a being of great power, a being tied to the history of Thedas and the Fade, but he was still ultimately a coward who could only rely on the sacrifices of others. Maleficus however was no hero, morality wasn't a real thing, a lie and belief given to you by parents or a master. To him, if you were strong you didn't have to rely on the sacrifices of another.

"The Inquisition and the Herald are both threats we cannot ignore, if they are allowed to grow they could win favor with the nobility, thus taking the lands we have earned back," Maleficus explained.

"If your forces are so strong I am sure they will be able to hold them off," Calpernia said.

"The Southern mages are resistant to an alliance," the Laetan said.

"Actually Fiona and I have already agreed the terms of the alliance," Alexius said.

"One person cannot ultimately decide the fate of thousands, the strong and determined amongst those mages will hate and rebel against her decision, and many have already joined either the refugee groups or the bandits in the Hinterlands. If the Elder one truly wishes to conquer the south he must strike against fledgling rivals, whilst also securing potential allies."

Maleficus's words however fell on deaf ears. Calpernia turned on her heels and began walking towards the door. As if the conversation was over on her say so. Raising his hand, Maleficus manipulated the fade, shaping his mana like steel to literally create weapons. Two holes appeared in the spaces either side of Calpernia, any outrage she could scream was silenced. Lances slid out of the tears, crossing one another, smashing the ground with their blades and trapping Calpernia's hands. Alexius and Maleficus, the Venatori acolytes, soldiers and even the slaves all saw the bulge pass down Calpernia's throat and the beads of sweat running down her face. She had been reminded that though she was favored, she was in no way Maleficus's superior. He clicked his fingers, causing the weapons to disappear.

Maleficus imagined Calpernia's fear be replaced with anger, and her outraged expression as she walked out of the council chamber. He didn't care for her broken pride or her master's words. If the Elder one truly did not want the Inquisition gone, then he was capable of explaining why without his pets. Maleficus looked at the map, running his hand across the area he had seen his enemy. Daylen Amell, a hero reborn, as if the Fade itself summoned him to add to the conflict. At first regarding him as a curiosity, Maleficus smirked as he thought of another idea he liked. The Fade had pushed the conflict forward through two additions, a Herald whom could manipulate the Rifts, and the raw force of nature that was the embodiment of heroism. If Alistair Theirin wasted the rallying cry this would give his people, then he truly was no longer a warrior.

"Our rivals are growing in both strength and fame, to ignore them now would be an unforgivable sign of weakness, an invitation for them to interfere with our plans," Maleficus said.

"Perhaps but to go against the Elder One's commands," Alexius began.

"If he wishes to claim back what he believes is his then it goes hand in hand with attacking the Inquisition now whilst they are weak. This 'Herald of Andraste', the mark on his hand is what the Elder One wishes to recover correct?" Maleficus asked.

"Naturally, his plans are tied to the Fade and that mark," Alexius said.

"Then we send small bands out to attack the four man party the Herald has been seen moving with, at the same time I will lead a group to attack Haven directly. As of now they have only a small ill equipped and ill trained force, Haven is not an ideal location to defend. So I would have ten casters infiltrate the camp as refugees, once they have weakened the defense I will move in with a small infantry force," Maleficus explained.

"Now, now let us not be too hasty, there may be a way to capture the herald without having to resort to violence. These people are desperate for allies, then let us use that against them," a smirk crossed Alexius's face.

For a moment it seemed Alexius had gotten back the cunning that Maleficus once admired.

* * *

The Crossroads had become not just the gathering ground for refugees, but a camp for the Inquisition as well. Durad balanced his knife on his finger as he watched the soldiers assist priests, lifting crates and rolls of food and drink off of the carts. Whatever the resurrected mage had done had prevented disaster, but it was the Inquisition that ultimately solved the problem. Josephine contacted local lords, but on Durad's recommendation she contacted King Alistair. Asking favours from the nobility, was something they would have to come to when they truly needed it, and Durad didn't believe treating the refugees was that important, he regretfully admitted to himself. He slid his blade back into its sheath, and looked down at mother Giselle.

Similar to Daylen Amell, but different in other ways. She so far seemed to believe in helping people, in the power of compassion and kindness. But in contrast to Amell, she was a priest, a believer in pacifism, whilst Daylen had proven earlier that he was a warrior. If people didn't accept peace, if they endangered others, then they deserved death. Scout Harding told Durad of the tears Daylen shed in his fights, and it made Durad laugh. He had always heard of Daylen Amell, the powerful mage whom broke limits, Daylen Amell the fearless warrior, Daylen Amell the leader and strategist. The young man surpassed his teachers in the tower, matched the greatest fighters of his order, and eclipsed even Loghain's tactical genius.

'Yet the real Daylen Amell is a soft hearted fool afraid of blood,' Durad thought.

He knew he'd have to be careful with his criticisms. Leliana loved the man, that much Durad could tell, he had become a national hero and a friend to many. Which was why Durad believed, that in this time of Daylen 'finding himself', he would go to Redcliffe and seek out the Arl Teagen. But following Daylen's tracks all day was futile and unproductive. Giselle told him everything he needed to know to plan his next move.

'Their power is their unified voice,' he remembered her saying.

Doubt could be a powerful thing, if he could sow doubt amongst the Grand Clerics in Val Royaux, then he would three possible things, all of which would be good for the Inquisition:

1\. Cause enough Clerics to believe in the Inquisition, thus winning a unanimous support for the Inquisition.

2\. Divide the Chantry further, reducing its overall ability to disrupt the Inquisition.

3\. Show the nobility and the peasantry that the Chantry was ineffective, winning public support for the Inquisition.

If the Chantry was as benevolent as it often claimed to be, then they would have no choice than to approve of Durad's actions. Killing demons was one thing to earn favour. There was no organisation to the creatures emerging from the rifts. The party didn't need to be organised to fight beasts, which was what the demons were. Lavallen and Cassandra charged through the demons with Durad. He used and knife and axe, cleaving through shades with one, skewering them with the other. The results of closing the rift was not just a spectacular light show, but an easier road to travel. Durad knew he didn't have to sit and bandage people's wounds to win their love. People got fur and food from him, for he was better than a mage, he was a hunter.

Even Lavallan was astonished by how fast Durad could track and kill animals. His marksmanship made Varric wonder, what he could do with Bianca? He'd grip the crossbow a little tighter around Durad. The herald however grinned, signalling the party members to stay back. Within minutes he was carrying both game on his shoulders and rabbits tied together. Food for the hungry, and a greater luxury than Amell could offer them. Once back at the camp, Durad also coordinated with the scouts, putting on spots on the map that would be good places to set up camps. When the forces left, Durad took off his battle coat and gloves, and proceeded to skin the rabbits.

"There's your socks," he unceremoniously threw the furs onto a table one of the sisters was working on.

"You've done this quite often," Solas said, leaning his staff against a set of rocks.

He rolled up his sleeves and took one of the little creatures. Durad got a good look at the man's hands, flawless, devoid of scars. One would think Solas was some kind of noble, but as he cut into the creature's hide with a knife, Durad saw, that the elf was just that good with a blade. As if sensing how impressed Durad was, the elf proceeded to explain himself.

"In the woods, there are often dreams of hunters, men and women of the forest, both elf and human," he said.

"You see visions?" Durad asked.

"I walk the fade in my dreams, the fade is a foundry of knowledge, all dependent upon where you choose to dream," Solas said.

"Or whose dreaming," Durad said.

"True, often the Fade itself can be shaped by the person's will. I however do not wish to shape the fade but to learn from it," as he continued speaking, Lavallan came up to them, removing her gloves and digging into the game with her knife. "I have been to ruins that once belonged to my people, and seen what they once were, their beauty, their magnificence, the achievement of these grand statures existing," he spoke with a sense of regret for what was lost.

"You speak as if we'll never get that back, but there are Dalish clans across Thedas trying to reclaim what knowledge we've lost," the Dalish elf said.

"They only claim back small pieces of their history, a history they misinterpret," Solas said." They are like children, blissful in their own ignorance."

"I see, and if you are so wise, then why not share your wisdom with our clan leaders?" Lavallan asked.

There was a challenge in her voice, a hatred in her eyes. She didn't like having her people insulted, or their cause questioned. Solas though showed no sign of apology for what he implied, in fact the dark skinned woman did nothing to break his demeanour.

"I tried once," was all he said.

Durad looked between the two elves, whistling innocently. They both looked at him, causing him to sigh.

"I know you don't really care about my opinion, but I think I'll follow everyone else's example and just let it be known, history is important...but so is the future," he said, ripping the fur off a rabbit. "Just because things can't be exactly like they were before, doesn't mean they have to be worse!"

That silenced them, but in truth, Durad didn't really believe the words. There were times he wondered, if his life would have been better in the Qun. For all the talk of fearing the Ben Hassrath and always remaining on the run from them, his parents did often speak highly of the Qun, and the order it would bring. In the Chantry, Durad saw a bunch of people being good simply because some absentee god had told them to be.

'But Amell, he does good because he wants to, or is it because he feels he has to?' he slammed the skinning knife into the table, part annoyed by how vexing the man was.

They did what they could, or Durad believed all they were willing to do, and then left. Even Mother Giselle left the refugees, with some excuse that she had done all they could. Durad had done all he was willing to do, and all that he could do. He could not give them any hope beyond what fur and food provided, and in his eyes, that was enough. Sometimes simply remaining alive was enough.

The ride back to Haven had no danger, but upon arriving, the group saw that conflict had indeed spread to the small town. The Mage-Templar War, had spread even amongst the forces of the Inquisition. Both groups gathered at the Chantry, with Cullen standing in the centre, trying to keep the peace. The reason for this conflict, unsurprising to Durad was the death of the Divine. One group accused the other.

"It was your magic that killed most Holy!"

"Lies, your kind let her die," a mage retorted to one of the Templars. " Champions of the Just my ass!"

"Shut your mouth Mage!" the man moved to draw his sword.

"ENOUGH!" Cullen yelled, grabbing the man's hand and shoving the defensive mage back.

"Knight-Captain!"

"That is not my title," Cullen growled. "We are not templars any longer," he looked to his former comrades, and then to the Mages, "We are all part of the Inquisition!" pointing to each group, he tried admirably to tell them what was.

"And what does that mean exactly?"

"Oh for fucks sake," Durad muttered.

Just when people start to see sense, there was often that one person, that one pain in the ass who contradicted. Durad liked to be that kind of person, but when seeing Chancellor Roderick do it, he understood just how annoying it could be. The crowd seemed to be agreeing with the little man.

"Back already Chancellor? Haven't you done enough?" Cullen asked. The Commander was not any mood for the older man's contempt.

"I'm curious commander, as to how your inquisition and its 'herald' will restore order, as you've promised," the Chancellor turned as he spoke, addressing the crowd.

It was a good question, but any understanding Durad had for the man, any sympathy he had for him was gone. He saw the man speak not as a person who genuinely wanted to know answers, but who wanted to be seen asking those questions.

"Of course you are," Cullen said.

His voice was low and filled with contempt. He had no time for such things and he made it very clear.

"Back to your duties, all of you!" he said.

The crowd dispersed, their outrage with one another had faded, but it was far from gone. Durad walked back to his room and decided to rest on his bed for a bit. As he did so, he thought of Orlais, the place of decadence and greed, where such things were encouraged behind veils of righteousness. True righteousness, the kind that Daylen Amell showed, had no chance of survival. Or so Durad believed, Giselle herself said that those whom denounced her were merely showboating, looking to become the new divine. Yet there was still a curiosity within him.

"Could he be right? Could he actually do it?" he wondered, speaking the questions out loud.

* * *

The land was the same, yet different, although everything was different now. He had to shake his head at his own logic as he walked through the village. It was a horse breeding village, the estate sized village had been built around stables and a riding path. Although there was a lack of young workers there, only the old and children. Adjusting his hood, Daylen kept walking onwards, content that there was no one here who needed help. That was until he smelt something familiar, a dead body.

"Maker, not another one," he heard a woman say.

She and two others were standing on the outskirts of the farm, looking at a blood trail. He walked up behind them and looked at the trail, just big enough to be a horse.

"What did this?" he asked.

They turned to him, visibly shocked by his sudden appearance. But they took note of the sword on his back, and the way he carried himself. Fighters carried themselves a particular way, Daylen himself didn't emanate the arrogance most green boys did.

"Wolves," the woman said.

"I thought wolves usually stayed away from settlements," Daylen said.

"They do, but ever since the sky tore open, the wolves have gotten even more violent, they have attacked people, horses still on our land, even small groups on the road," one of the men explained.

"I see," Daylen nodded his head and began to walk, following the blood trail.

The villagers watched him leave in confusion, not knowing what he had decided to do. Unbeknownst to Daylen, he was not the only man with a mission on the Hinterlands. A blonde haired man stood by the stables, his right hand resting on the hilt of his sword. He was wearing brown leather gloves, steel wrist guards and red leather armour over blue clothing. His eyes were focused solely on the returned Warden, so much so that he jerked in surprise when someone slapped his shoulder.

"Are we to continue on?" a dark haired elf asked.

Behind him, four more men, in similar armour to his marched up. They were all human, the dark haired elf was the only one of his kind in the company. He too wore the armour they had, though he also wore a black coat with it.

"We shall Tennax, I need to know if its him," the blonde haired man said.

"Ten years since that day, you truly believe the rumours?" the elf asked." For all we know he could be an imposter or worse a demon".

"I won't learn anything hiding, let's go, unless you're scared," the young man smirked.

The elf huffed before following his friend and commander.

* * *

Val Royeaux, capital of decadence and backstabbing, otherwise known as Orlais. That wasn't to say it was to be completely dismissed. Durad knew all parts of it, from the streets of the Lowborn to the estates of the highborn. Those on high in their mansions and businesses, played the game of Orlais, a game that didn't end with the court or the parties. The lowborn however, they simply tried to survive and enjoy life as they could. Durad respected that, that had after all been his motivation through life, make money, enjoy life and live as long as you can. There was a different air to Val Royeaux today though, and as Durad walked on the path into the city, he recalled what had bought him here.

"Having the Herald address the clerics is not a terrible idea," Josephine said.

The three advisors, plus Cassandra, and Durad stood in the war room. Josephine had been holding her writing board and quill (in fact she seemed attached to them).

"You can't be serious," Cullen said.

"Mother Giselle isn't wrong, at the moment, the Chantry's only strength is that they are united in opinion," Josephine explained.

"And we should ignore the danger to the Herald?" Leliana asked.

"Let's ask him," the diplomat said.

"Yes, lets actually include him in this conversation, about whether he should go to a pack of people that would rather see him hung," Durad said.

He tapped his horns, letting them all know what he had that stuck out. What everyone would see if he went to Orlais.

"Jokes aside, I'm more concerned this won't actually solve any problems," he elaborated. " I'm no good to any of you if they lock me up or chope of my head."

"I agree, it just lends credence to the idea that we should care what the Chantry says," Cullen said. " They are powerless and have done nothing to resolve the current crisis."

"I will go with him," Cassandra volunteered. "Mother Giselle said that she could provide us names? Use them," she said to Leliana.

"But why? This is nothing but a..."

"What choice do we have Leliana? Right now we can't approach anyone for help with the Breach!"

"We certainly can't make do with what we have," Durad added. "Today we had twenty volunteers, the next day it may be ten, probably less, Giselle bought with her four hundred refugees, and we'll have more coming every day. That horse breeder you recommended Cullen, he's not willing to leave his family, he's sent an apprentice, an apprentice. We could petition aid from the crown, this is all happening on their land after all!"

"There's a blockade of Rebel Mages, thieves and demons between us and Redcliffe, we can't physically talk to Arl Teagen or the mages he's hiding. King Alistair and Queen Anora are probably sending troops out to ravaged areas already, they won't part with the Royal Army, even with your friendship to him Leliana, especially considering how things ended with you," Durad explained.

Leliana grit her teeth together, Durad's words bought up painful memories. Daylen spared Loghain, and that led to the breakdown of his friendship with Alistair. After the funeral, Leliana returned to Orlais and hadn't spoken to Alistair in years.

"In Amaranthine we have the Warden Commander, whose always been described as heroic and practical, two things I didn't think went together. Except he's now disappeared, and control of that land has gone to the acting commander Nathaniel Howe, who, like the crown is trying to keep his own land protected, and you helped murder his father. We have Fergus Cousland in Highever, who I don't think will be in a hurry to leave his home unprotected, especially after what happened the last time. Westhill, Orzammar, everyone is going to be too busy with their own problems, or they just won't care about ours."

"Which leaves us with, half a legion of soldiers, most of which are untrained green boys. We can't rely on kindness, we'll be wasting time if we be kind too, we can't stop to solve every problem every little and big person has. Right now the Breach is calm, but it's not going to stay that way, and whoever created it and killed the Divine is still out there, and let me tell you, if it was me, I'd be looking to finish what I started. We're running out of time, we need to do something drastic to get people on our side!"

When he finished talking, the Vashoth realised, he'd been trying to convince himself as well. It reminded everyone of just how desperate they were, and what sacrifices needed to be made. Durad hit the edge of the map, shaking his head for a moment, before sighing and nodding. The others took it for what it was, an unspoken acceptance, that this was what he needed to do. Cassandra looked across the table, at both Cullen and Josephine.

"Use what influence we have to call the Clerics together, once they are ready we will see this through," she said.

Whenever the Seeker spoke, it reminded Durad that really, she was the one in charge. He only offered practical advice. Yet that advice had been seen as the only reasonable plan, the kind of plan a leader made. They saw his speech, his reality check as the kind a leader would give to stop the infighting amongst disagreeing advisors. So the arrangements were made, and in the present Durad saw his fears begin to come to life.

"Just a guess seeker, but I think they know who we are," Varric said, after a woman cowered at the sight of Durad.

Not the kind of reaction he wanted from a woman, let alone a member of the faith he was trying to win over.

"Your skills of observation never fail to impress me Varric," Cassandra snarled.

They walked through the grand gates of the city, where one of Leliana's scouts rushed to meet them.

"My lord Herald," the woman bowed.

She was young, barely eighteen. It drove home to Durad, the point that the Inquisition had been formed by idealists, and it would be joined by idealists. But despite its foundation as a religious movement, faith and religious symbols would not be enough to sway the Chantry.

"The Chantry mothers await you, but so do a great many Templars," the scout said.

"There are Templars here?" Cassandra asked.

"People seem to think the templars will protect them...from the Inquisition!"

Durad pulled his head back and laughed. The Inquisition was barely even an annoyance as it was now.

"They're gathering on the other side of the market, I think that's where the Templars intend to meet you!"

"Only one thing to do then," Cassandra said.

Durad huffed as he followed behind her.

"You think the Order's returned to the fold maybe? To deal with us upstarts?" Varric asked.

"I know lord seeker Lucius, I can't imagine him coming to the Chantry's defence, not after all that's happened," Cassandra said. "Return to Haven, someone will need to inform them if we are...delayed."

"Basically we'll either come back running, or our heads will be flying there," Durad quipped.

"As you say my lady," the scout said, trying to ignore Durad's comment.

With Solas and Varric behind them, Durad and Cassandra walked to the market. On any other day, people would be browsing the wares outside and inside the fine shops. In comparison to Ferelden markets, Orlesians believed in quality over quantity. Their shops were owned by business moguls looking to profit, not making a living. But today was a bad day for business, as people were focused on the gates to the docks. There, several clerics stood with Templar guards. Durad took note of the one at the centre, the 'Mother'. He briefly looked to the Templar at her flank, a shaved head, dark skin and strong posture.

"Good people of Val Royeaux, hear me!" the Mother declared.

'Good people of Val Royeaux, not a word people would say truthfully,' Durad snorted.

"Together, we mourn our Divine, her naive and beautiful heart silenced by treachery!"

As the woman continued, Durad snorted again. The words she used, 'naive' they had been spoken with envy. Something deep within that woman's mind, was glad that Justinia was dead. Durad tensed though as he saw the woman look at him. He cursed inwardly, realizing Cassandra's presence would give away who he was.

"You wonder what will become of her murderer, well wonder no more," the mother continued, this time focusing solely on Durad and Cassandra. "Behold, the so called Herald of Andraste! Claiming to rise where our beloved fell!"

The people began to cry out and jeer at Durad and his company.

"We say this is a false prophet, the Maker would not send a Qunari heathen to save us!"

Durad looked around at the crowd, and then at the mother, and then at her guard. He seemed to fidget uncomfortably at her words, there was doubt in his eyes. There was doubt in everyone's eyes, they simply followed the direction of whoever had the best voice. Durad grinned for one small moment, before raising his hands.

"You see what has happened here, we came here under a banner of peace, to speak with the Chantry and discuss how we can solve the crisis which is ravaging the land and its people as we speak. And this mother uses the name of Justinia, a woman whom was merely the first victim of the Breach, to convey a slur," Durad explained.

The faces shifted, many seeing some truth in Durad's words. Personally, he felt the mother was racist, but still very much dedicated to the chantry and with good intentions.

"We came here not to question the Chantry or divide it, but to seek help to end the real threat. To end it before it is too late and the damage it has done becomes irreversible," he continued.

There, he saw it in the Chantry Mother's eyes, and the eyes of the other clerics. They were starting to doubt.

"It is already too late," the mother said, point to the left of the stage.

Templars began walking on to the stage, led by a man whose presence caught Cassandra's eyes. Durad examined the man, the leader judging how the others followed him. He was also the oldest, probably in his fifties or older, his face held experience, his stride was strong. But his expression, it held only contempt as the mother continued her ranting.

"The Templars have returned to the Chantry, they will face this Inquisition and the people will be safe once more," she said.

As the Templar Commander walked past her, not even giving her a second glance, one of the templar scouts stepped up to the mother. He pulled his fist back and swept it across the woman's face, causing her and the crowd to cry out. Her Templar guard watched her fall to the ground in shock, and made a move towards the scout. He stopped however as the commander placed a firm grip on his shoulder.

"Still yourself, she is beneath us," he said.

Durad squeezed his hands into fists feeling a rage building up inside of him. The mother was an annoyance, but to treat her like that, and for that treatment to come from one she believed would protect her.

"What the hell," he snarled, taking a step forward.

"Her claim to authority was an insult," the Templar said, looking to Durad, meeting his rage filled eyes. "Much like your own!"

He walked off of the stage, taking all of the Templars with him, even those whom were shocked by what he had done. Cassandra walked away from the group, trying to reach the man.

"Lord Seeker Lucius, it is imperative that we..."

"You will not address me," the man said.

Lord Seeker Lucius, now Leader of the remaining Templars. Cassandra's mentor, if so, Durad understood her temperament now. But even Cassandra seemed shocked, as if she was looking at a different person. Heroes had a tendency to disappoint, and time changed everyone.

"Lord Seeker?"

"Creating a heretical movement, raising up a puppet as Andraste's prophet, you should be ashamed. You should all be ashamed, The templars failed no one when they left the purge the mages. You are the ones who have failed, you who'd leash our righteous swords with doubt and fear. If you came to appeal to the Chantry, then you are too late. The only destiny that demands respect is mine," Lucius explained.

He had been looking at Durad as he spoke, whom stepped past Cassandra and glared at the Seeker leader. Durad looked down at Lucius, who matched his glare despite the difference in height. Then Durad's eyes swept across each of the Templars accompanying Lucius.

"Cullen can see the real threat, he joined us," Durad said.

"A staunch and loyal member of the order, so loyal he abandoned them for a false Herald," Lucius scoffed.

"But Lord Seeker...what if he truly was sent by the Maker? What if..."

"You are called to a higher purpose, do not question!"

The Templar who had been on the stage first questioned, and the one who struck the mother didn't.

"I will make the Templar Order a power that stands alone against the void, we deserve recognition, independence," Lucius said.

After speaking, many of the Templars, including the hesitant one, raised their fists and slapped them against their shoulders.

"You have shown me nothing, and the Inquisition? Less than nothing, Templars, Val Royeaux is unworthy of our protection! We march!"

Durad lowered his head, gritting his teeth together as his fingers dug into the palms of his hands.

"Unworthy? Beneath you? recognition? NOTHING!" Durad yelled.

He took a step forward, and some of the Templars put their hands on their swords. Durad looked at each one, his eyes fixing on the doubtful one, the dark skinned Templar who had stood on the stage before.

"You would follow this man, who has immediately written off one of the biggest cities in Thedas? A man who allows his soldiers to bully those they are meant to protect," Durad pointed at the scout, uncaring that the man had drawn a dagger. "Tell me, is that the great order you represent, a group of people who grand-stand as villages burn? Who worse burn the villages themselves? We've done nothing?...how many rifts has the templar order closed, how many people robbed of their homes have they taken in? We came here to ask for your help, to ask the Templars to do what they were meant to do, was I wrong to expect that?" the Vashoth asked.

As the Templars walked away, Durad remembered that one templar who doubted. If he doubted, maybe the others did as well. Durad remained silent as the others went over to the fallen Chantry Mother. She insulted Cassandra a few times, and seemed to have given in to despair. Then she asked him a question he had to think about the answer to.

"Who are you? If you are not the Maker's chosen, who are you?"

A mercenary, the son of a hunter and an apostate, a Tal Vashoth, the son of a traitor and a dangerous object. Assassin, con man, thief, murderer, these were some of the things Durad admitting to being. But abandoned by the Templars, their words useless, the Chantry itself was nothing now. It was individuals who would help strengthen the Inquisition.

"A man who can close the breach, and end this madness," Durad said.

The Chantry mother admitted that that was more than a comfort than he could know. It wasn't a complete change of her mind, but it got Durad thinking, that if he could shift her belief even a little, the perhaps the same thing could be done for those who follow Lucius. Suddenly, an arrow fell a mere inch from Durad's foot.

"What the fuck," he muttered.

He saw a note attached to the arrow. Picking it up, he read it, and smirked. Earlier he had said kindness could not be relied upon.

'Perhaps I should change my views on kindness,' he thought.

* * *

Daylen dumped the wolf corpses he was carrying. He sat on a rock and let out deep breaths. None stop he had been fighting, helping, gathering herbs and hunting feral beasts. His mana as depleted, but his body was also near exhaustion. The reality sunk in that he was alone, that he'd only survived before because he had others to fight beside him. He missed Loghain and Alistair's shields, but also the formers advice and the latter's wit. He missed Zevran and Leliana's knives, the formers interesting humour and the latter's loving nature and faith. He missed Sten's wisdom, the kind most couldn't see, Oghren's bravery and the protection he offered his friends, Wynn's motherly scolding, Shale's hatred for birds, which always made him laugh.

'You're alone, you fool,' he admitted to being what others thought of him as.

Slowly standing up, Daylen raised his head, bringing a hand to his blade. People were approaching him, all in familiar armour. The leading templar had a face Daylen remember, but older now. He recalled him being at the Lake Calenhad tower, but couldn't recall his name. What he could recall was that he was a good fighter, one of the few men who could effectively use dual long swords. The man stabbed his left hand sword into the ground, and held his helmet underneath his elbow.

"Lord Amell," the Templar said, nodding his head to him.

"I'm not a..." but Daylen shook his head, picturing Josephine reminding him of his posthumous titles.

"We expected you to go to the Lake Calenhad tower," one of the helmeted templars said.

"I could see its state from a distance, and I've just been too busy," Daylen said.

He was still breathing heavily, some of the templars even laughed. Not the lead one though, not the one who knew Daylen.

"What happened to Irving?"

"He still lives, last I heard he had begun losing days, becoming simpler at times, age wasn't kind to him," the Templar spoke with compassion, but Daylen knew what he was here to do.

"Before we get started, would any of you prefer to walk away," Daylen asked, raising his head and narrowing his eyes in determination.

The old Templar nodded his head.

"For the longest time I had been unable to say thank you, so now I will say it, thank you," he walked forward, and then turned around.

"What are you doing Trevelyan?" one of the templars asked.

"Fulfilling my duty," the man put on his helmet, and drew both his swords.

The other templars began drawing their weapons, most in outrage over their allies shift in loyalty.

"Don't do this," Daylen begged the man, seeing they were outnumbered. "Turn around and drive your sword through my neck, please don't throw your life away...Arthur," he remembered the man's name.

"You truly are Daylen Amell," Trevelyan said.

"Of course he is!"

The two men and the Templars looked up at the nearby hill. A company of soldiers stood there, led by a blonde haired man, the same man who had been tracking Daylen since he began hunting the wolves. Daylen looked up at the young man, he was as old as him, and had a face he recognised from somewhere.

"I couldn't have travelled halfway across the country to chase a ghost story," the young man said as he drew his sword.

Daylen widened his eyes as he looked at the curved sword. He remembered getting it from a frightened boy in Redcliffe, a boy who boasted that the 'Green Blade' had once been used by his grandfather, a dragon slayer.

"Now step away from the Hero of Ferelden, I need to say thank you to him too," the young man smirked.

The Templars charged!

Next Chapter 8: The kindness of strangers

* * *

Hope everyone enjoyed the chapter, Maleficus will play a big role in the future, he's pure Tevinter military, not a cult member. In the words of a Game of Thrones character, he's a 'fookin legend' back in Tevinter.

The character leading the mercenaries, the one with 'the green blade' is not an OC. More details next chapter


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age

Back with another update, including the recruitment of new party members, both on Durad's side and Daylen's side.

* * *

Resurrection

Chapter 8: The kindness of strangers

_Once upon a time there was a teenager called Durad Adaar. He never felt like he belonged anywhere, and wanted a home so desperately. His father was cold, and his mother was weird, life was a struggle. Every day they came across strangers, and they rejected the help they may have offered. Durad's father told him something:_

_"You cannot rely on the kindness of strangers!"_

_They were simple words, survivalist words, and Durad spent time wondering if that were true. When he grew old enough to leave his parents, he joined a mercenary company. They claimed to have honor, and to stand for the weak. But when Tevinter slavers came and gave them enough money, they tried to give Durad away as a slave. He escaped, and since then he has learnt the lesson his father taught him. Strangers were always treated with suspicion, and kindness was always accepted with skepticism._

_In another corner of Thedas, there was a boy called Bevin. He and his family lived in a village called Redcliffe, but Bevin wanted to leave home one day. His father was gone, but his mother was kind, and life was never a struggle. Every day the people of the village treated them with kindness._

_But then came the day the dead walked out of the castle. They slaughtered people, and when Bevin and his sister needed help the most, none of the people they knew helped them. Their mother was dragged away, and no doubt killed. Bevin ran away, and tried to find something to be brave about. But then a stranger found him, and that man taught him how to be brave. Even after the battle, he continued treating Bevin and his sister with kindness. Since then, Bevin has learnt to be brave, as well as kind. He followed what that man had taught him that day._

_"Sometimes, the kindness of strangers is all that you have!"_

* * *

When he was a boy, Bevin hid in a wardrobe, believing it would help him escape the undead that killed his mother. As a man, he didn't need to hide from anyone anymore. He fought alongside a group of men whom shared his views of honour and equality. Back to back with his sworn brother, an elf named Tennax, he fought Templars, former protectors of the religion he followed. He parried the sword strike of one man, and stabbed him through the neck. Tennax wielded two swords, in similar fashion to how Arthur did. He deflected one man's sword and cut his throat.

They looked to the older Templar, who was by far the best swordsman amongst them. Arthur Trevelyan fought four of his Templar brothers at once, parrying and blocking. He was better than them all and they knew it. One by one they fell after each swing of his swords, and both the band of warriors, and the mage they protected looked at Arthur in awe. For Bevin and his friends, it was like seeing a legend in action, and Arthur was a legend. A member of the esteemed Trevelyan family of the free marches. Like many members of his family, he chose service in the Templars, and proved to be one of the best swordsmen of the order, if not the best swordsman in Thedas.

For Daylen he was looking at not one, but two great warriors, whom he had known before they achieved greatness. In Arthur he saw just how far the young Templar recruit had come, from a Templar only in the order to please his family, to a knight whom truly believed in upholding his principles. Then there was Bevin, whom he remembered as the brother of a girl called Kaitlyn. She had lived in Redcliffe, and had been so desperate to find him. He had run into a wardrobe, and only came out when Daylen convinced him to. The boy had wanted to use his grandfather's sword, the green blade, to fight the undead. Daylen smiled as he looked at Bevin, the boy was a man the same age as him now. Clearly, he had made the right choice in giving him both sword and coin. Then the warriors looked at Arthur again, as the knight sheathed his right sword and knelt, holding the tip of his left sword to the ground.

"Maker, forgive me for the betrayal I have committed against my brothers, forgive my brothers for their actions, driven only by fear and ignorance. I believe in your infinite wisdom, that though ignorance is not truly the same as innocence, it at least makes others worthy of understanding, and mercy in whatever punishment they endure. Please Maker, do not punish them, for they have already endured great punishments in life!"

After completing his prayer, Arthur removed his helmet and walked towards Daylen. He looked down at the young man, he didn't smile or frown. His expression was one of regret, but also the kind that was searching for something. He looked to Daylen for something he had not had in a long time, hope, and Daylen returned the gaze. For he too was looking for hope, with the choices he had made hadn't led only to disaster. Seeing Bevin gave him that hope.

"You've grown, I'm glad you got to be a hero," Daylen said.

The expression across Bevin's face was one of joy. He enveloped Daylen in a tight hug, causing Tennax and his men to shake their heads in embarrassment. Slowly, Arthur smiled and chuckled. But as Bevin separated from his hug with Daylen, the former Templar placed a hand on Daylen's shoulder.

"My Templar brothers have abandoned those in need, even attacked villages, currently, the people suffer from raids carried out by bandits, these bandits have occupied a fortress and will continue to attack the innocent," he explained.

"I can stop them, and protect the villagers," Daylen said.

"Many have said that," Arthur retorted, his eyes narrowed at Daylen for a moment.

When Daylen didn't back down, didn't lose his confident look, the former Templar smiled.

"You...are the first person I believe will succeed!"

* * *

Orlais-After following crudely written letters

Durad continued looking at the letter he had taken from the Orlesian docks. Whoever wrote it had bad hand writing, and drew strange drawings on the borders of it. The pictures were childish, and Durad figured whoever was passing him messages was immature. But they raised concerns about a 'bad guy' in Orlais. The clues led to a warehouse and by the time the party got there it was dark. Durad, Solas and Varric moved through the shadows, their light armor made them the best suited for infiltration, at least Durad figured that was the best approach so far. He poked his out of one of the alleys, seeing a group of men standing by the entrance.

"Mercenaries, paid men, they aren't paying a lot of attention," Durad said.

"Perhaps we should go around," Solas suggested.

"Or over, how are you two with climbing?" Durad asked.

"With these legs?" Varric raised his eyebrows.

"And as you see I don't exactly have the build for physical activity beyond running," Solas said.

"I thought you would have learnt master climbing techniques from the Fade," Durad grinned as Solas shook his head.

Durad looked at his surroundings. The alleyway was just narrow enough for him to climb up it. He put his arms and legs against the wall, and began shuffling himself upwards. Varric chuckled, impressed by the Qunari's strength, but also his flexibility. When Durad reached the top, he grabbed a ledge with both hands and pulled himself up. He crouched for cover, expecting marksman to be posted. But there were none, he jumped across to another rooftop and checked a nearby body.

'Shot to the face, hell of a good shot too, and whoever killed him made time to pick his pockets too,' Durad thought, finding nothing in the man's pockets and his coin purse missing.

He made his way towards one of the ledges, looking down into a courtyard. There were several guards posted there, but none of them were close to the suspected 'bad guy'. He didn't look like much trouble, an Orlesian man dressed in frilly clothes with a ball mask, and a very weird hat.

'Who the hell is he supposed to be?' Durad wondered.

Dropping down to one balcony and another, Durad jumped behind a pillar, pulling out his bow and arrow as he landed. The Orlesian man suddenly threw his hand forward, throwing a fireball at Durad. The weak flame flew past the pillar and struck the wall. It was weak, incredibly weak actually. So weak that Durad put his bow back and drew his knives.

"Herald of Andraste!" the man said, placing his hands on his hips, standing with utter confidence. "How much did you expend to discover me? It must have weakened the Inquisition immeasurably!"

"Actually I didn't have to ask anything of our spy master, considering she was as ignorant about who you are as I am," Durad explained.

"You don't fool me, I'm too important for this to be an accident, my efforts will survive in victories against you elsewhere," the Orlesian huffed, using the common self-righteous pose nobles used, the kind that they used when speaking of how great they were.

A sudden cry alerted both men. They looked towards one of the guards, who fell to the floor, revealing a new arrival. She was an elf, a skinny girl dressed in red clothes and yellow trousers. Leather armor offered her minimal protection, she also wore an archery glove. Her blonde hair was short and unevenly cut on one side.

"Just say what!" the girl said as she knocked back her bow.

"What..." as fast as the man spoke, an arrow flew through his mouth.

Durad whistled, he could have made the shot too, but he was good and so was the girl. She walked over, grinning from ear to ear.

"Squishy one, but you heard me right?'Just say what', rich tits always try for more than they deserve," she said, bending over the Orlesian's body. "Blah, blah, blah!" she yanked the arrow free, looking down at the body with contempt. "Arrow in my face!"

"So you followed the notes well enough, glad to see you're..." the girl paused as she looked at Durad.

"You're big, real big, from the north yeah? Rivain or...north. I mean it's all good innit? The important thing is that you glow? You're the Herald thingy?"

Durad looked down at the girl, still completely confused over what was happening. Though he could get the gist of what was happening, masked nobleman up to no good, self-righteous elf girl looking for payback.

"Sure why not? I glow, what's going on?" he asked, just for clarification.

"I have no idea, I don't know this idiot from manners, my people just said the Inquisition should look at him," she said.

"You're people? Elves?" Durad raised his eyebrows in confusion, his theory was thrown out of the window.

The girl seemed to take offence to the term, but chuckled good naturedly.

"Ha, no, people people," she said.

"Name's Sera, this is cover, get round it," she motioned to the crates around the courtyard. "For the reinforcements, don't worry, someone tipped me their equipment shed. They've got no breeches," she snickered.

As the doors ahead of them opened, Durad looked between Sera and the approaching guards.

"Why the hell didn't you take their weapons?" he asked.

"Because no breeches," she again snickered, knocking back an arrow.

Durad let out a growl of frustration as he drew back his bow. The guards had all their upper body armour and weapons, but only underwear on their legs. Sera was hitting them faster than Durad could, pinning their legs, and then sliding arrows through the gaps in their helmets. The door swung open behind Durad, and Varric and Solas emerged. They took cover behind the crates, dodging the arrows that came their way. Varric removed a cordial from his coat, passing it to Durad.

'Oil,' Durad grinned, tossing the cordial up and down.

He then threw it into two of the guards, hitting their shields. Solas threw a fireball, setting the shields alight. The guards, most green boys panicked as flames also ignited on their exposed legs. They thrashed around, only to be hit by bolts and arrows. When the final guard went down, Sera put her bow on her back and walked over to Durad.

"Friends really came through with that tip, no breeches," she giggled. "So Herald of Andraste, you're a strange one, I'd like to join!"

Durad shook his head as he looked down at the bodies. He then looked at Sera and stood to his full height.

"Could we take a moment for sense to reassert itself, who are you people?" he asked.

"I'm not people," she scoffed, "But I get what you're saying, it's like this, I sent you a note to look for hidden stuff by my friends, the friends of red Jenny, that's me. Well I'm one..."

"So is a fence in Momfort, a woman in Kirkwall, two brothers in Starkhaven, a eunuch and his little kids in the west and a lot in Orlais, not many in Ferelden considering most people are quite happy there," Durad explained.

"Oh are you a friend too?" Sera asked.

"Friends of Red Jenny, yeah I've heard of them too, met the Kirkwall one," Varric said.

"They're a group of people with an axe to grind with nobles," Durad said.

"Yeah, it lets them be part of something whilst they stick it nobles they don't like," Sera said.

"Sounds like petty revenge," Solas muttered.

"They're not a criminal gang, they're more like a collective of people who pass information onto other people, usually when it'll hurt the nobility in some way," Durad then looked down at Sera again. "I get it Sera, you and the friends want to help, cause if the world ends..."

"We want things back to normal, don't you?" Sera asked.

"Yeah, I do, and there will certainly be plenty of nobles looking to make a profit from this chaos," Durad said.

"Exactly, someone big is always stepping on someone little."

"But here's the thing...I know you and your friends are going to be filling your pockets...how could they not, but, when your opportunities to have fun, create unnecessary conflict, well we're going to have problems then," Durad explained.

"A rich tit was stopped before he could carry out whatever plan he had, it's not too much to think of," Sera said.

"Oh but it is, there is plenty to think of, like say these guards," Durad began, walking over to one of the bodies.

"Bad things should happen to bad people, we find someone not so bad, maybe he'll end up not so dead," Sera continued.

"I don't believe much in good people or bad people, just people making bad decisions, like these guys," Durad retorted.

He pulled off a mask, revealing a boy who had barely turned sixteen. Then he pulled off the gloves, exposing marked and scratched hands, the sign of a labourer and not a noble.

"Most of these guards were just ordinary working men, with families to feed, 'little people' the kind your friends of Red Jenny wanted to help or stand for," Durad explained as he stood up, and began walking over to Sera.

Her attitude shifted uncomfortably, seeing the dead bodies, the hands, recognising all the things Durad noticed.

"You can come with us Sera, you can tell us what your friends tell you, but from now on you will not decide what to do with that information, myself or our spy master will. Your way ended up with a loud of young men losing their breeches, but still with the weapons they could use to fight, thus guaranteeing that they would fight in order to get paid, as opposed to running away, your way is what got them killed Sera," he explained.

"They shouldn't have..."

"If you're really part of these 'little people', then you know what it's like to be hungry, and to take a job you don't like, welcome to the inquisition Sera," Durad said.

Sera's mood returned, though her eyes lingered on the bodies.

"Haven yeah? See you there Herald, this'll be grand," she said.

'Indeed it will,' Durad sighed.

It wasn't that he didn't find her funny, but she was ten times, no a hundred times more naive than Daylen Amell. At least he understood his choices had consequences for more than just a handful of people. When he got back to Haven, he would ask Leliana (if she wasn't too busy) to find out just who the masked asshole was. He trusted Leliana's word more than he trusted a stranger's.

* * *

The Hinterlands

They were not an army, nor were they truly ready to fight a bigger force. What they could do however was scout, and that required hiding and sneaking. That was something Daylen had become quite adept at during his campaign against Loghain. A warden and his group travelling with the country under civil war, and the authorities of the country going after them. It was all too similar, hiding in the rocks, scouting out the bandit fortress, reminded Daylen of the times he and his party, usually Alistair, Leliana and Zevran scouted out a blockade of soldiers loyal to Loghain or to Howe. Bevin, Arthur and Tennax were behind him, looking over his shoulders as he analyzed the fortress. It was in a sorry state, it wouldn't be able to defend against an army, but there was no time to wait for an army.

"How many men do you have with you?" Daylen asked Bevin.

"Twenty at the crossroads and ten at the village," the young man said.

It was strange for Daylen, a few days ago he remembered Bevin as a little boy. Now they were the same age and one just a few inches taller than the other. Daylen put his hands together and began thinking, of exactly how to approach the fortress. He thought of every side, every crack in the walls, every gap, every watchtower.

"The four of us alone can't take it," he said.

"No shit," Tennax muttered.

"But the bandits have left some people alive, and those people are tired of the raids," Daylen said.

"They don't exactly have an army guarding the place," Bevin pointed out.

"But they do have the advantage of the fortress itself, the gate won't close, but archers could still pick us off, they have cover from spells and the walls are narrow so it'll be difficult for either side to gain an advantage," Daylen explained.

"What's the plan then?" Arthur asked.

"We go back to the villages, I'll need more time to plan," Daylen said.

The group returned to the riding village, where Bevin's men were already at work. They were building a watch tower for the village, along with a bell mechanism, to ward off wild animals in the future. Some of the men were even helping in the fields, and in bringing the livestock back in from the woods. Along the way, Daylen himself found a sheep wandering near a lake, and drove the creature back to the farmland.

"Thank you sir, I can't pay you or your men any more than soup and a bunk to sleep on I'm afraid," the horse master said.

"I expect nothing, they're Bevin's men," Daylen said.

"Soup and kindness is what they hope for sir," Bevin smiled as he nodded his head to the man.

The man left to tend to the horses, leaving Bevin, Arthur and Tennax to walk the perimeter with Daylen.

"How well do you know your men Bevin?" Daylen asked.

"I've known them for many years, most are actually Ferelden, Tennax here was from the Alienage in Denerim," Bevin said.

"A great deal of people were saved when the Darkspawn attacked, but a great deal were lost before you stopped those slavers," Tennax said.

"I'm sorry," Daylen lowered his head.

"If apologies were worth anything my mother would still be with me," Tennax retorted.

"Hey Ten, stop that, Daylen wasn't the one who started selling elves," Bevin said.

"No, but he spared the life of the person who did."

"Then you shouldn't follow me," Daylen said.

The three looked at Daylen in shock as he walked into the woods.

"With me it'll be one fight after another, there's no reward waiting for me, nothing tangible that will put food on your plates or coin in the pocket," he explained.

"I don't fight for coin," Arthur said.

"Neither do we, we started fighting because we understood the pain of losing loved ones, most of our men lost people, some have even lost their entire families. The king and queen started empowering the people, from all walks of life, but they did very little for the lands that had been destroyed by the Darkspawn," Tennax explained.

"After I finished training I joined this company, they provide support for communities left disadvantaged by the blight, ten years later and we're still feeling the effects of that day. But do you know what kept us going forward, what drove many people to help regardless of potential reward?" Bevin asked.

Daylen looked towards Bevin, genuinely interested in what he had to say, but slightly overwhelmed too.

"It was an old memory, of a man, who made his way across the country. He helped people wherever he went, with magic, or just pure kindness. Often, he abandoned a reward, and sometimes his journey got that much harder for him. Doing the right thing, sometimes even cost him, but he never stopped trying. When all of the people who were supposed to protect this country, were too busy fighting one another, he went into the alienage and saved the elves there before they could be taken. When the Darkspawn hit the alienage, he personally went to defend them, keeping them out of the fighting, but inspiring them to fight and protect their homes anyway. When the dead terrorized Redcliffe, he prepared the defenses, even made time to find a scared little boy and give him a little courage. When the dead were buried again, he gave that boy back his sword, and coin so that he and his sister could make a future for themselves."

Tennax huffed slightly at Bevin's speech, but he showed no actual sign of disagreeing with him. Arthur too smiled as he walked over to Daylen, and patted his shoulder.

"You have touched the lives of so many people Daylen, you are a leader, and people have chosen you," he said.

Daylen put a hand to his eyes, sweeping it over them. Though tearful, though touched, he still hadn't made his decision. He still walked away.

* * *

_You are cordially invited to attend my salon, held at the chateau of Duke Bastien De Ghislain_

_Yours,_

_Vivienne De Fer_

_First Enchanter of Montismmard_

_Enchanter to the Imperial court_

Durad looked at the letter with a bored expression. Not that he wasn't pleased to have the support of the infamous 'Iron lady'. He heard some things from his mercenary work and Leliana told him what to expect of Vivienne. A die hard player of the Orlesian game, a pro-circle mage and the first person to turn 'enchanter to the imperial court', into a position of actual influence. Though Durad was sure she was a powerful mage, he didn't believe there was much to judge when it came to the Montismmard circle. One of the few circles to remain loyal to Orlais and the Chantry, it was unlike any of the circles in Thedas.

As he made his way up to Duke Bastien's house, he recounted the times he had visited circles. For many circles it was either to smuggle some form of contraband, dirty books or letters from family members. Sometimes they even assisted in the capture of Apostates, and Durad often felt a pang of sympathy when he'd see the conditions and treatment that even non-violent escapees got. The circle of Montismmard was completely different however. Grey Wardens apparently recruited only one mage a decade from there. That wasn't to say that the mages weren't good. Solas summarized it best.

"The Circle's rigorous training offers a solid foundation, true, it also creates boundaries, limits, where none need exist," the elf apostate said.

Durad agreed, Montismmard mages typically followed the rules, and the training to the letter. They limited their magic, never being creative with it or pushing it. Many mages Durad had met, some he'd even fought, were so skilled because they were creative, because they left their foundation and worked on surpassing their limits. Vivienne, was most likely at the peak of her power, and though she was a good mage, she would never truly improve.

Once he was inside the house, walking into the party of masked Orlesians, Durad was welcomed with a title he never expected.

"Master Adaar of the Inquisition," the announcer said.

The Vashoth grinned inwardly, he'd been acknowledged as an important member of the Inquisition. They wouldn't have wasted time with an announcement if he didn't have value, or was of political interest. Durad looked around for the Enchanter, stopping when two nobles spoke to him.

"A pleasure sir," the lord said. "We so rarely get a chance to meet anyone new, it is always the same crowd at these parties."

Now these were the kind of Orlesians Durad liked, still prim, but not proper. Outside of work, he probably would have gotten a drink with them. The couple were in no way bothered by him being a Qunari, and Durad liked that.

"So you must be a guest of Madame De Fer, or are you here to see Duke Bastien?" the nobleman asked.

"Are you here on business?" asked his wife. "I have heard the most curious tales of you, I cannot imagine half of them are true," she said.

"What do they say about me?" Durad asked.

"That you were carried out of the fade by the Hero of Ferelden, both of you sent by Andraste herself," she said.

"Well, it is a part truth, but not the whole truth, the Hero of Ferelden did carry me out of the fade, as for who the woman who saved us...well maybe she was Andraste, or maybe she wasn't...that's the beauty of faith isn't it?"

"Indeed, so few realize that nowadays," the nobleman said.

"Tell us, what is he like?"

Durad put a hand to his chin as he thought about what to say. In truth, he didn't have a definitive way to describe the man.

"He's well intentioned I suppose is the best way to describe him, and frustrating too, but enough about him, where is Madame Vivienne and Duke Bastien?" he asked.

"Duke Bastien hasn't made an appearance, much like how he has not been appearing at court lately, he has apparently taken ill, thus Madame Vivienne taking up residence here," the nobleman explained.

Durad was actually quite shocked at that revelation.

"Unfortunate, I hoped to discuss with both him and Madame Vivienne them giving aid to the Inquisition," he said.

"The Inquisition? What a load of pig shit!"

Durad, and many of the other guests looked up at the speaker. He walked down the stairs, no missteps, so he wasn't drunk.

"Washed up sisters, and crazed seekers. No one can take them seriously," the man said, walking past Durad and the other two guests. "Everyone knows it's just an excuse for a bunch of political outcasts to grab power!"

Durad huffed, placing his hands on his hips.

"Cassandra and Leliana were the hands of the Devine, I'm pretty sure they're far from being political outcasts. Unless, that was a jab at me," a faked, hurt expression crossed his face as he took a step closer to the Orlesian.

Either he was brave, or stupid, because to his credit the man didn't shown any sign of intimidation.

"We know what your 'Inquisition' truly is, if you were a man of honour, you'd step outside and answer the charges," he said.

Durad, and the guest's eyes grew wide as the man suddenly stopped. His skin had taken on a blue hue, and a cold cloud came from his mouth. The man was stuck in place, half frozen, suffering the paralyzing effects, but none of the decaying effects of the cold.

"My dear Marquis, how unkind of you to use such language in my house...to my guests," a voice said from the stairs.

Strutting down the stairs, was someone Durad often saw at a distance. And as she came closer and closer to the ball, he got a much better look at the 'Iron lady'. She was tall, but thin, clearly not a woman of physical strength like Cassandra. Her confidence was also different, she saw herself as superior to most people in the room. Unlike even other Montissmard mages, Vivienne was dressed in a robe more befitting an Orlesian noblewoman. The robe was white and blue, and linked at her neck, with a gap underneath revealing her cleavage. The frills, diamond decorations, and high collars on the dress were clearly meant to impress. Over her mask she wore a horned head dress, but Durad knew she was no Saarabas.

"You know such rudeness is...intolerable," Vivienne stated, as she began to approach the Marquis.

"Madame Vivienne, I humble beg your pardon," the man said.

"You should," she said, as if it was an obvious answer. "Whatever am I going to do to you my dear?"

Then she turned to Durad, an almost smug smile across her face. A forced politeness, that much Durad knew.

"My lord, you are the wounded party in this unfortunate affair. What would you have me do with this foolish, foolish man?" she asked.

"I'm not a lord, and his words left no wounds, and if I killed every man who insulted me I'd have been arrested long ago. I think the Marquis has seen the error of his ways," Durad explained.

'What, would she actually kill him if I asked, this is Orlais I doubt that would happen...on second thought, it would happen,' Durad thought.

"By the grace of Andraste you have your life my dear," the Enchanter gripped the Marquis's chin, and then clicked her fingers. "Do be more careful with it."

The magic faded, and the man coughed, embarrassed but not seriously injured. He walked away without a second thought, so too did the party continue.

"I'm delighted you could attend this gathering, I've so wanted to meet you," Vivienne said, focusing on Durad.

They both walked away from the party, towards one of the open windows. Durad managed to catch a glance of an Inquisition hood, and hid his grin. Leliana was certainly good at her job, most likely they were monitoring both himself, and Madame Vivienne. Once it was clear none of the guests were watching, Vivienne stood in the moonlight and looked up at Durad's face, even taking off her own mask. She was attractive, though Durad doubted it was a natural beauty. It was purely makeup, her lips glossed, cheeks treated and nails of course polished.

"Allow me to introduce myself, I am Vivienne, first Enchanter of Montismmard and Enchantress to the imperial court," Vivienne said.

"Charmed Lady Vivienne," Durad tipped his head slightly.

"Ah, but I didn't invite you to the chateau for pleasantries."

"Oh but I was looking forward to livening the party up with my southern barbarism...I mean charm," Durad retorted. "Pardon my cynical behaviour but I know what usually happens in this country, players of the game have a big speech prepared, but they're usually only in it because they have something to gain for it," he explained.

"You are right my dear, with divine Justinia dead the chantry is in shambles. Only the inquisition might restore sanity and order to our frightened people. As the leader of the last loyal mages in Thedas, I feel it only right that I lend my assistance to your cause," Vivienne explained.

"Loyal to who though?" Durad asked.

"To the people of Thedas of course. We have not forgotten the commandment, as some have, that magic exists to serve man. I support any effort to restore such order."

"I see, so what have you been doing?"

"Excuse me?" Vivienne asked.

"It's a relatively simple question, 'my dear'," Durad said, shrugging his shoulders as he pointed out of the window.

"The Dales, the marches and the Hinterlands, all places where people need the service of mages. Yet I have not seen any mages from Montismmard treating wounds and growing food, or is the nobility here so in dire need of their services?" he asked.

"We loyal mages follow the law of course, as well intentioned as it would be to simply travel to these places to help, there are rules we have to follow, if we break those rules then we're no better than the malcontents ripping those places apart," Vivienne explained.

"Considering some of those 'malcontents' are doing what that commandment states better than 'loyal mages' are, I'd reconsider the approach of what you're selling. What I've got so far is that you're going to offer a bunch of mages who have no real experience in doing what you claim they're going to be able to do for us? And that you're doing it because you truly believe in the circle and the rule the chantry has over Thedas?"

"Of course, the circles need to be restored as fast as possible, where else can mages learn to safely master their abilities? As for what I gain, what I personally gain, the same thing others will gain. The chance to meet my enemy, and to decide my fate. I'm a Knight-Enchanter of the empire my dear, I know how to wield weapons of the arcane and weave the elements to my bidding, and I most certainly have experience in fights, I won't wait quietly for destruction," Vivienne explained.

"Okay, so there's a chance you're the most bad ass mage in Montismmard, which if you'll excuse me isn't searching for long," Durad said.

"Oh you certainly are pardoned my dear, but if that doesn't impress you, I know the Orlesian politics, and I know every member of the court personally and I have access to the remaining resources of the circle, will that do?"

Durad crossed his arms and thought for a moment. As much as Vivienne got under his skin, and as much as she would get under the skin of everyone else.

'Cause let's face it, she is going to get on people's bad sides, and they will get on hers,' he thought.

He also knew that though Vivienne wasn't exactly kind, she was offering resources they could use. Putting on his best smile, Durad bowed his head.

"Welcome to the inquisition Madame De Fer," he said.

"Great things are beginning my dear, I can promise you that," Vivienne smiled as she took Durad's hand and walked with him back to the party.

"Oh you don't have to tell me that, I've seen these great things personally," Durad said.

"Yes, I heard of the supposed resurrection of Daylen Amell, hero of Ferelden. An admirable mage, but ultimately a malcontent, whom though saved many lives, his example inspired much chaos," Vivienne stated.

"In what way did he inspire chaos?" Durad asked.

"Oh he convinced a generation that they could be more than what they are, alienage elves, circle mages, even your run of the mill commoners, they all demanded more after he died, because he treated them with such kindness," Vivienne stopped holding Durad's arm and walked to one of her servants.

The man was holding a tray with wine glasses on it. Vivienne took one of the glasses and offered another to Durad. He took the glass and simply held it as Vivienne went through the usual tasting process, sniffing and sipping it.

"If this 'creature' is truly whom it says it is, then he would still be a deceiver," she said.

"What do you mean?" Durad asked, narrowing his eyes slightly.

Vivienne sipped her wine, a satisfied smile across her face. She'd baited and Durad bit (and he was angry with himself for doing so).

"The popular fiction is that Revka Amell, eldest daughter of the Amell branch family leader, fell in love with and bedded a foreign man, whose features became dominant in her first born son Daylen Amell. But as I said that is a fiction, I have it on good authority, that Daylen was simply an abandoned child on the streets that Revka and her father were kind, but ultimately foolish enough to take into their home, and treat him like he was of noble birth," Vivienne explained.

"I've met him, and quite a few nobles in my time Vivienne, he doesn't act at all like he's high born," Durad said.

"Exactly, it's because he was never truly high born, all those titles were given to him, he never earned them," Vivienne said, still smirking.

Durad tilted the wine down his throat, and suddenly spat it across Vivienne's skirt.

"Oh I am so sorry, I really hate this stuff, alas this proves what you've made clear Viviene, that if a man whose saved an entire country is not worthy of nobility, then obviously a lowly Kossith mercenary isn't either, see you at Haven," Durad said as he began to walk away.

Vivienne squeezed her delicate hand into a fist, wiping at her ruined dress. Once he got outside, Durad climbed onto his horse and smirked. He found it amusing that, in a subtle way, he defended that man's honour. A man, home Durad acknowledged, understood what it meant to be noble better than all those at Vivienne's party. Yet the herald wondered, if the man's noble attitude alone would be enough to help him succeed in this world of chaos, where one side was rightfully afraid of the other. He was also looking forward to seeing what Leliana would do if Vivienne talked like that in front of her.

* * *

_Once upon a time, there was a boy called Daylen. He was an Amell, yet, he never felt like he truly belonged with the noble family. They treated him like a son, and he was so happy with them. When a fire rose over Kirkwall, he remembered being buried, and found by his grandfather. The tears in that man's eyes, the joy he had from saving someone, remained with Daylen forever. He found the dream of being a hero beautiful, and wanted to help everyone. Then his magic awakened, and he was sent away, to a place where he was respected and feared for his potential, yet still never truly felt like he belonged there until he made two special friends._

_When his best friend was accused of blood magic, he was kind, and took action. Even when he became a grey warden, he tried to remain kind, despite knowing that grey wardens were not kind. When he found a murderer, a Qunari, he was kind and took action. When the people of Lothering needed help, and no one would come, he was kind and took action. When an assassin tried to kill him, he was kind and took action. When citizens of his country were threatened with slavery, he was kind and took action. When he was faced with his enemy, whom betrayed his order, whom hunted him, whom sold his own citizens into slavery, Daylen Amell was kind, and took action. His final action, was one of kindness, and it cost him his existence._

_Yet a lingering will remained, still being kind and still acting. Still following the lesson of his grandfather. Sometimes all people had was the kindness of strangers, but sometimes strong actions were needed, to stop evil, and to remind people of what they were capable of. Kindness alone wasn't enough, without the will to act._

* * *

Daylen had been walking for what felt like hours, following a stream, climbing over rock and trees. He marked a few landmarks for the inquisition, and picked some herbs until his belt pouch was full. Coming to a halt at a hill, he looked down at a small patch of crops. It had been ransacked recently, as had the house. Whoever it belonged too though was still alive. A man wearing a straw hat picked up some of the ruined and picked plants. He was a skinny man with a shaved bald head and a full beard. Beside him, his wife hugged his arm, she was an elf and heavily pregnant. Their child, a dark haired boy was playing with a few sticks.

"Hey, I'm sorry I'm trespassing here, but I was just passing by when I saw you," Daylen said, as he began walking down the hill.

The couple looked up at Daylen, the man taking off his hat as he approached, (but also stepping in front of his wife). As Daylen got closer though, the man's lips suddenly trembled, and he dropped his hat.

"I want to help you to clean this mess up, if I do would you be willing to tell me if you know what direction the men who did this went?" Daylen asked.

"It is you," the man said, and Daylen blinked, he recognized that voice.

The man suddenly dropped to his knees, tears running down his face.

"Daylen, I never...I never thought...that I would get to say...I'm sorry...I thought you were dead," he cried, even as his wife rubbed his back.

Daylen looked down at the man as he looked up at him. He suddenly found the man familiar, but imagined him younger, with long black hair and stubble instead of a beard. Daylen crouched down, touching the man's shoulders, and then pulled him into a hug.

"Jowan!"

Next Chapter 9: The kindness of strangers part 2

* * *

Was that a surprise? I hope it was a surprise :), editing credit goes to 00virtuezero, next time we are introduced to Iron Bull


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age

* * *

Resurrection

Chapter 9: Kindness of strangers part 2

_Once upon a time, there was a boy called Jowan. He had been afraid for most of his life, of his father, whom never treated him or his mother with kindness. When his magic arose, he was even more afraid than he had been in the past. He was sent to the circle, and it was not his power he feared, but the knights whom watched him. They denied him a life of children and love, and he felt truly alone. Then a boy arrived at the circle, he was quiet, yet earned so much respect for his kindness and his skill. He could have been a friend to anyone, but he became Jowan's friend, his best friend, and saved him from loneliness._

_Years passed, and that friend was the greatest mage at the tower. Jowan was jealous, so jealous, that he broke a law and dabbled in a power that would earn him what he feared the most. But he had also found love, with a girl called Lily. When he told his friend, he was happy for him, and didn't hesitate to help him escape the circle. But things went so wrong, Jowan tried to be brave, but only lost Lily, and abandoned his friend. He felt guilty for the longest time, and wandered the country for a safe place. A man who wanted Arl Eamon dead, gave him a mission, and Jowan thought he was doing his country a service. But all it did, was result in more death and destruction, and again Jowan disappointed his friend._

_But once again, his friend forgave him._

* * *

Levyn, that was the name that he was going by now. Daylen sat in his old friend's home, as ruined as it was, they kept a stash of food store. Some loafs of bread and fruit. 'Levyn's wife was brewing some tea, their son still playing outside. Daylen watched the boy, seeing how similar he looked to Jowan, when he was that age. Levyn was helping his wife, Kiara, with the tea. He supported her as she poured the warm drink into three cups. Kissing her cheek, Levyn then picked the cups up and took them to the table.

"Your body was burned, one of your companions, the red haired one, kept it for a while, or so it was rumored," he said.

"Where did these rumors come from?" Daylen asked.

"Days before your funeral, her name was Leliana right? Well she apparently took your body to what Genitivi would later reveal to be the temple of Andraste's ashes," Levyn explained.

That actually shocked, and touched Daylen. Leliana had tried to bring him back with the ashes, or that was at least the only conclusion he could come to.

"How did you two meet?" he asked, trying to draw attention away from him.

"Many people lost their homes because of the blight, Levyn was helping people, as was I," Kiara said.

"You are a mage?"

"You don't need magic to heal people, and not all elves hold a grudge, treat a person with kindness and they're less likely to act like a bigot towards you. Eventually we fell in love, I know what my husband has done, I also know how much he valued you and your friendship. The entire country mourned you, the king had a speech but he was barely able to talk," Kiara explained.

"That doesn't sound like the Alistair I parted with," Daylen said.

"Kiara, Dayne and I were fleeing, we were going to Amaranthine when we heard of what happened at the temple of sacred ashes, of your resurrection," Levyn explained.

Daylen took a few sips of his tea, and kept looking at Dayne. The boy was so much like how Jowan had been, yet so different too. Before he couldn't have imagined Jowan coping on his own. But today he had been proven wrong, it was the reassurance he needed to confirm that he had made yet another right choice.

"No offence Day, but what are you doing out here in the Hinterlands?" Levyn asked.

He looked down at the ground, at his hands.

"Would a demon wonder if he was real, or would he just know, and instinctively defend that existence?" Daylen asked out loud.

Levyn looked at his old friend, and patted him on the back.

"Everyone is...giving in to fear and hatred, and it's not just the Hinterlands, I know what I did mattered at the time. But why am I here if the whole world is set against me?"

"Do you remember that time you climbed the book cases?" Levyn asked.

"Which time? Even after I fell down and broke my arm the first time, I kept climbing for books people couldn't reach," Daylen explained.

"Exactly, you didn't give up, I know you'll be going straight back out there to help people, to fix this, because it's the kind of person you are," Levyn said.

"I don't think the kind of help I offer is the kind people want," Daylen retorted.

Levyn took a gulp of his tea, and placed a hand on Daylen's shoulder. He smiled as Daylen lowered his head slightly. Then he looked at his son, a boy he knew would be affected by the outcome of the 'mage-templar' war. Levyn didn't join any side, he just wanted his family, his children in particular to be safe. He remembered the days Daylen would take the punishment some apprentices would be faced with.

"Daylen, when people are scared and angry, they tend to do things they wouldn't, because at their heart they're good people. Of course, there are those whom genuinely hate others, and have taken that hate too far. But those who have simply lost their way, once they realise how terrible the things they do are, and they will, they need someone to look up to, or even stand beside. It's important that people like you are there for them, leading by example, as you've always done."

Levyn smiled as he stood up and raised his hands, as if presenting a show.

"The way of Daylen Amell, help others, and find a salvation for all. That's how Ferelden has worked for ten years, and it's worked out well so far," he said.

"You've changed Jowan," Daylen said.

"Of course, with a beard I'm now much more handsome," Levyn retorted.

"And then women look at the bald head!"

"Very funny!"

The two friends laughed, patting one another on the back, and watching the boy play, a moment of peace before they ran together into the chaos.

* * *

Haven

One advantage of welcoming the refugees, it gave Cullen more recruits. When Durad returned to Haven, he saw the former Templar, standing in front of the recruits, all of them sparing with wooden shields and dulled blades. He was teaching them to fight like templars, but they were sloppy, most had handled scythes and pitchforks before, and that was for bloodless work in the crops or a barn. Some of the men and women were anxious to hurt one another, others were a little too excited.

"Never show your back to an enemy, spinning with the sword may add more momentum to the strike, but it also idiotically exposes your back," Cullen admonished one recruit.

Cullen stepped back, crossing his arms and watching more of the recruits fight. One of his lieutenants, still in his Templar armor stood next to him.

"You there, there's a shield in your hand, block with it, if this man were your enemy you'd be dead," again Cullen lectured one of the recruits. "Lieutenant, don't hold back, the recruits need to be prepared for a real fight, not a practice one," he said and the lieutenant nodded before he walked to the other side of the training yard.

Durad stepped up to the commander, whom again crossed his arms, taking his eyes off the training.

"We've received a number of recruits, locals from Haven and some pilgrims, none made quite the entrance you did," he said.

"At least I got everyone's attention," Durad said.

"That you did, I was recruited to the Inquisition in Kirkwall myself," as Cullen spoke, the pair walked along the yard, "I was there during the mage uprising, I saw firsthand the devastation it caused."

They stopped at the tents, Cullen accepting a report from one of the Inquisition scouts. He looked it over, all the while recounting his recruitment to the inquisition. Durad stood patiently, and even interested in Cullen's story.

"Cassandra sought a solution, when she offered me a position, I left the Templars to join her cause, now it seems we face something far worse," he explained.

"The conclave destroyed, a giant hole in the sky, and an undead Warden," Durad said.

"And this to add to it," Cullen said, actually giving Durad the report.

Once he adjusted to the hand writing, Durad was actually shocked by the contents of the report. Some of the minor scouts in Ferelden found villages slaughtered, not surprising with the war. But what was surprising was the manner of how the bodies had been left. Weapons found at the scene, Templar shields, armour, mage staffs and scorch patterns consistent with spells. But the set-up of the bodies seemed too staged, and Durad didn't need the scouts' recommendation to know, that no one left their weapons behind. Ordinarily they would assume one group was trying to set the other up. But at some of the villages, flowers had decayed, and only male bodies were found.

"This is why we are needed, the Chantry lost control of the Templars and the Mages. Now they argue over a new Divine, whilst the breach remains open and more massacre sights like this one occur across Thedas. The Inquisition could act when the Chantry cannot, our followers would be part of that, there's so much we can..." Cullen explained, but then paused. "Forgive me, I doubt you came here for a lecture," he said.

"I admit I did come here to listen to you yell at the green lads," Durad grinned, then smiled as Cullen. "But you understand our situation, I appreciate your opinion."

Leliana was a spy, good at what she did. Josephine was a diplomat, good at what she did. Cullen however was a soldier, he'd been to the places that were as close to Durad's line of work as the others got. True, Durad often worked within the shadows, but most of the time he had been taken to the frontlines of war zones. Cullen had fought in war, and had led troops. He wasn't an idealist, yet at the same time he wasn't a bitter person.

"Look around, our people are well organized and committed, despite what the Clerics think, we are in the best position to help," Cullen said. "There's still a lot of work ahead," his voice took on an almost tired tone.

But Cullen's full attention was on the next scout to come at him with a report.

"As I was saying," he placed his hand on his hilt and followed the man.

As Cullen made his way up towards the gates of Haven, Durad followed, taking a path to the inn. Several of the pilgrims were drinking, and eating what could be offered. Sera had quite a bit of food at her table. Her leather armour and bow was gone, and she was digging into a whole chicken, and a pie. Durad walked over to her table, drawing Sera's attention. She motioned to the chair in front of her.

"So this is it huh?" Sera asked.

Durad took a seat, raising his eyebrows slightly.

"Oh, no, it's fine yeah? It's just, I thought it'd be bigger, pffft, hear that? I meant the stronghold but it sounded like...well its funny right?" Sera asked. "Anyway, stopping wars should earn more sovereigns than this, need things back to normal for things to be flowing again, another reason the Mages and Templars need to be sat down."

"I'm pretty sure the Conclave proved it's not that easy," Durad said.

"Yes it is," Sera retorted.

"Oh, you're right, precisely right, it is that easy, we'll sit everybody down and say, 'Right you lot, let's get everything back to normal so we can play, or you'll lose your breeches,'" Durad said.

"Pfft, breeches," Sera giggled. "That doesn't sound like me though, too high pitched, but I get what you're saying. Why should it be hard? Because someone yelled it real loud? Make them prove it."

"Well the conclave was blown up, Mages committed acts of mass murder, Templars were given the authority to imprison Mages for the rest of their lives, the Chantry did nothing when Templars abused their powers, so I think it's pretty much been proven that it's going to be much, much more complicated than that," Durad explained, smirking slightly as Sera's eyes narrowed in confusion. "But at least there will be plenty of opportunities for you and me to fill our pockets."

Durad rubbed his hands together as he stood up.

"I'm not aiming to fill my pockets," Sera said defensively.

"Really? And you didn't pick up the purses and personal heirlooms from the guys we killed in Orlais? Do you just assume its all junk and keep it, tut, tut, a rookie mistake, those just fill your pack up to its limit quicker."

"I'm not a rookie, I sell them all at the nearest vendor, keep all the junk in your pack? Who does that?" Sera asked, then widened her eyes. "Oh shit, I mean, I'm not a thief, I'm helping the little people strike back. I grease a ballroom, so a wyvern chasing git has to hunt sprained, strangely handmaids leave his vault open. His heirlooms pay off someone else, maybe clean streets in Kirkwall, so someone else gets something else, pish, pish pish, eventually a lot of people get help or a laugh. Or maybe someone dead, if they deserve it," Sera explained.

"I know, I know, primary motivation give to the poor, piss of nobles, etc., secondary motivation, fill my belly and my pocket, it's only natural," Durad said.

He turned to the door to leave, but stopped, putting a hand to his chin.

"There's something I've always wondered, was there ever a Red Jenny or has it always been you and your friends?" he asked.

"Dunno!"

"Don't you care?"

"Not if it works, I mean, 'red' is scary because...blood, and Jenny is...look, nobody fears 'the bunch of people who do random stuff'," Sera said.

"I get it, nobles needed a bogeyman, something to give face to their fears because a bunch of commoners couldn't possibly hurt them," Durad rolled his eyes at the logic. "Fear can achieve quite a bit, that's probably why the circles worked for as long as they did. Then mages stopped being afraid, kind of makes you think what'll happen when both nobles and commoners aren't afraid of one another," Durad grinned as he walked away.

He kept walking, making his way up to the chantry.

On the other side of Haven, near the shacks, Lavellan walked along the snow, picking at what little herbs she could find. Whilst most would have written them off as unusable, Lavellan was prepared to educate some of the herbalists on Dalish recipes. She wondered however why she stayed?

'Is it revenge, for my brother?' she thought.

So far their search had achieved nothing. But every day she overheard reports that the Hero of Ferelden was walking across the land, helping people. She wondered if he was doing what the Inquisition wouldn't, or simply beating them to it. Walking within distance of the house, the elf spotted a hooded figure hunched over near the pile of wood.

"Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just."

Recognizing Leliana, Lavellan considered turning away. Ordinarily she would have had no taste for human religion. But there was a bitterness in Leliana's voice that intrigued her. So far, Leliana seemed to be as devoted as all the other priests.

"Blessed are the righteous, the lights in the shadow. In their blood, the maker's will is written," the bitterness in her voice became even more apparent, as her hands tightened around one another. "Is that what you want from us? Blood? To die so that your will is done? Is death your only blessing?"

She raised her head, noticing Lavellan for the first time.

"I've wanted to ask Durad so much, if he speaks for the maker, would he be able to tell me what his game is?" Leliana said.

"What do you mean game?" Lavellan asked.

"Do you see the sky? The temple ruins? The bones lying in the dust? Even if you didn't support the Divine's peace, you wouldn't call this right, who could? So many innocent lives lost, the faithful murdered where the holiest of holies once stood, if the maker willed it, what is it if not a game or a cruel joke?"

"You Shems and your maker, when something good happens you declare it a miracle, when something bad happens what is it you say? Oh yeah, 'the maker works in mysterious ways'. Ignoring reality like that is a form of malice, a refusal to acknowledge that your free will has consequences, good and bad," the elf explained.

"I understand that my choices have consequences," Leliana retorted.

"DO YOU!" Lavellan yelled.

She was glaring at Leliana, and approached her with an angry stride. Lavellan was tall for most elf women Leliana had met, and nowhere near as frail. Leliana knew Lavellan's strength, having seen how she could lift a sword bigger than her. She also knew her rage, Lavellan had beaten several Inquisition members who abused the elf servants in any way.

"I heard that Celene massacred the elves of Halamshiral only after you had visited her, for how long did your 'most holiest' mourn those people. What would her conclave have done for my people Leliana?" Lavellan asked.

"I am not responsible for what Celene did, we never condoned that," Leliana said.

"We are all responsible for our own actions, or inaction in your Divine's case. That's what our religion teaches us, to pay tribute to the creators, but ultimately, we are responsible for damning the world," Lavellan explained.

"I envy you for that, the maker asks a lot of us, we are taught that the maker abandoned us, that he demands repentance for our sins. He demands it all, our lives, our deaths, Justinia gave everything, and he let her die," Leliana explained.

"Humanity doesn't believe in the Maker, it believes in itself, your race has created a world where standing together is impossible. Repentance for your sins? Humanity will never want that. Case in point being you Leliana, instead of blaming your god, blame the people responsible for the Devine's murder."

"If the maker doesn't intervene to save the best of his servants, what good is he?" Leliana asked, looking up at the sky.

"If the Devine doesn't intervene to save the most stepped on races in Thedas, what good is she?" Lavellan retorted.

Leliana glared at the elf, tempted to punch her, Lavellan's strength be damned. Her hand shook as she took a deep breath.

"I regret that you've seen me like this Lavellan, because I wanted to ask for your help," she said.

"Why would I help you?" Lavellan asked.

"Rifts have appeared in the Fallow mire, a huge swamp land in southern Ferelden. I sent men there after hearing reports of the dead rising from the swamp. Their job was to establish defences, but they haven't reported back yet, Josephine's way would alert the Bannorn, and I don't want to risk further disappearances with Cullen's men, I believe a small group can investigate the disappearances and get out of there quickly," Leliana explained.

"So you want me to be part of this group, why would I help a bunch of probably dead humans?"

"Because amongst those probably dead scouts, are elves," Leliana said.

Lavellan frowned as Leliana walked past her.

"If you care even a little about them, meet Lysette, Hall and Tamar at the blacksmiths," the spymaster said, making her way back to Haven.

Lavellan looked at her hands, squeezing both into fists. The other elves were at least part of the reason she stayed, she hadn't determined the other reasons yet.

Durad noticed the stride Leliana had. She was angry over something, and he was curious to find out what. But his attention was quickly focused on what had become known as the war table. The heads of the Inquisition were gathered around it, ready to sort through the problems of the day. Another was sitting in the corner, a brown haired man who Durad didn't recognize. He was dressed in plate armour.

"I still don't see why I'm here," Durad said.

"You showed remarkable intellect in your earlier suggestions Durad, and word has spread of how you stood up to Lord Seeker Lucius, the influence we have gained has been because of your actions in the Hinterlands," Josephine explained.

"Closing the rifts has made it easy for people to move through the Hinterlands now," Cullen added.

"But there have also been reports of increased apostate, Templar and bandit activity," Leliana said.

"We each have different opinions in how to approach issues that require the Inquisition to deal with them, we also have to decide between us which we should prioritize," the spy master added, sliding several opened scrolls to Durad's part of the table.

Durad opened each one, one at a time.

_Josephine Darling, you should take care of this, V._

_My dearest Vivienne_

_You cannot have heard the shocking allegations against the Inquisition, or surely you would never have been seen with them. Allow me, as a friend, to open your eyes. People are saying that Divine Justinia is, indeed, alive, but that the Inquisition—her closest advisors and most trusted servants—have orchestrated all this chaos on her orders. That it was Seeker Pentaghast and Sister Nightingale who sabotaged the Conclave in order to eliminate the opposition within the Chantry, and cut off the heads of the mage rebellion and Templars in a single stroke. To save your own reputation, you must escape this acquaintance immediately._

_With deepest concern,  
Vicomtesse Elodie de Morreau_

"Wow, conspiracy theories, I remember when people spread rumours that the Hero of Ferelden wasn't dead...oh wait," Durad chuckled as he put the letter down. "All right, some ladies bothering Vivienne, and a bunch of people think we're just part of a plot, which we aren't right?"

The trio looked at Durad, shocked, and even appalled by his implication.

"What? It's a good theory that actually has some merit, even I kind of believe it, especially with me being accused of murdering her," he explained.

"We can't prove the Divine is dead, but we can escort people to the crater to see it themselves," Cullen said.

"That would be a waste of our forces time though," Durad said.

"Agreed!"

"Proving the Devine is dead would just be used against us, we need to find the source of the rumours," Leliana said.

"We need the support of the nobles to combat these rumors, I can arrange a few visits," Josephine said.

"All right let's move on to the next item," Durad muttered, picking up another scroll.

It raised concerns over Haven itself, apparently there were still passages left by the Cult of Andraste. Which meant that there were probably dangerous items still lying in wait. Durad looked to Cullen and Leliana, both of whom had forces that could carry out searches.

"I'm leery of what we might find in these passages, but we do have enough men for a search, they will simply have to be careful," Cullen said.

"Actually I believe this is a task best suited for agents knowledgeable of dangerous magic, I have just the ones in mind," Leliana rebuked.

Durad then picked up another letter, this one from a Ferelden noble:

_Herald:_

_Your Inquisition says it's for order against chaos, reason in darkness. If you stand by this, come forth and drive the heretics from my lands. They claim to be refugees, but I have seen elves and apostates among them! Filthy savages, tearing at our roots. Our Monarch refuses to send forth armies, and my own knights were decimated at the Conclave. I require your aid to return peace to my lands!_

_Prove your loyalty, and I will see you richly rewarded for your faith._

_Praise the light,  
Lord Kildarn of Ferelden_

After reading the letter, Durad heard each of the advisors opinions.

"Ah yes, Lord Kildarn, a pariah even amongst his peers, let us send a polite refusal and nothing more," said Josephine.

"We can take advantage of his raving. My spies can harass the refugees into moving somewhere else, to win his favour," Leliana said.

"We could send a few patrols, but I'd rather they help the refugees, not this Lord Kildarn," Cullen said.

"Ordinarily I would agree with you," Durad muttered. "I know Lord Kildarn, the Valo-Kas has helped him on more than one occasion. According to Shakrakar, and I'm quoting him here, he's 'an insufferable cunt, but he does have a lot of gold'. I feel for the refugees, I truly do, but they're hiding in the wrong place. The Traft's are neighbours, but also rivals of Kildarn's family. They also own the woodlands, which would serve as better shelter and hiding places for the refugees. Bann Traft would also be more willing to assist them than Kildarn is."

"I'll send my people, we'll use scare tactics to drive them out," Leliana said.

"We don't want them harmed, the last thing we need is for people to see the Inquisition as bullies, and I'm not about to be party to the mindless slaughter of people just trying to get by, try to appeal to the ring leaders, make them see the sense of leaving Lord Kildarn's lands," Durad explained.

"Which means my men will have to search the passages...wait, I think I'll delegate this to Rylan and some of the mages, a task that involves them working together could improve morale," Cullen explained.

"That's good Cullen, which leaves you Josephine to handle the rumours from the nobles," Durad said.

He then looked at the brown haired man standing in the corner.

"Okay, is anyone going to tell me who this is?" he asked.

"Ah yes, let me introduce you to Cremisius Aclassi," Josephine said.

"Krem will do," the man said.

"He's a lieutenant in the Bull's Chargers," Cullen said.

"Bull's Chargers, that name is familiar, they're competitors for the Valo-Kas," Durad said.

"We wanted to offer our services to the Inquisition," Krem said.

"Well, since Lord Kildarn will be owing us a favour, I'd say we'd welcome the help, if I wasn't already part of a mercenary company that'll probably help for a lower price?" Durad asked.

"See us in action before you make a decision, our leader Iron Bull is like you, one of them Qunari," Krem explained.

"He's requested to meet you personally on the Storm Coast, a place where scouts report several rifts have appeared, along with giants, spiders, and a bandit group known as the Blades of Hessarian," Cullen explained.

"Also I would like you to find signs of the Grey Wardens there," Leliana said.

Durad narrowed his eyes slightly at her request, fully intending to ask her about it later. In the meantime he looked at the Storm Coast on the map. That would be his next location, and possibly where he would claim more allies for the Inquisition. Concerning this other group, the Blades of Hessarian, Durad knew of a way to win their favour, all he needed was for requisitions to forge him a mercy crest.

* * *

Hinterlands

When he was Jowan, Levyn never thought he would ever find happiness when Lily ran away from him. But a mere two years after that, he met and fell in love with Kiara. Even as they packed, leaving what had been their home for years, Levyn smiled at her. Daylen had offered to help them, but both refused, leaving Levyn's best friend alone with their son. As they folded what clothes they would take with them, the parents saw Daylen pretend to be a dragon, cowering at the sight of a stick Dayne brandished like a sword. Whilst before Levyn's smile had been forced, both he and Kiara smiled genuinely when their son cheered.

"You loved him didn't you?" Kiara asked.

"He was...is my brother," Levyn said.

"GIDDYUP!" Dayne yelled.

Daylen ran across the fields, carrying Dayne on his shoulders. Taking a respite from packing, Levyn curled his arm around his wife's waist, both watching their son with joy, for the first time since the Mage-Templar war started.

This time, they had enough to reach the refugee camp, and actually help there as well. Daylen walked ahead of them, looking out for any danger they might face. With him protecting them, Levyn had a confidence he didn't have before. Kiara saw the look across her husband's face, and smiled. Daylen had given them something, greater than an act of kindness. His very presence was a reassurance that everything would be all right. As night began to fall, they set up camp, in a place much like where Daylen used to camp with his party. There was the vague signs of the crater left by that rock from the stars.

"Stay by the fire, there are a few things I want to get from a cache I set up nearby," Daylen said to his charges.

Dayne curled up with his mother, whilst Levyn followed Daylen to a pile of rocks. Daylen began to pull the rocks aside, pumping his fist when he saw a black stone. He lifted the stone, revealing a chest underneath it. It didn't have a lock, allowing Daylen to easily open it. Inside the chest was equipment Daylen had stored. Through his journey, Daylen often found useful items overfilling his pack. He stored most of these items at a chest at Wardens keep. But other stuff, simple items that would still be just as effective as the rare ones, he stored in chests, and hid at certain locations.

"You always managed to get by when you improvised, yet you were also good at planning ahead," Jowan, no Levyn said.

He had to remind himself to call his old friend Levyn now. Jowan was a wanted man, a Maleficar, an instigator of the Redcliffe massacre. Daylen removed several empty bottles and coin pouches from the chest and put them into his bag. He also took out two knives, which he put into his bag, and a short bow and quiver of arrows. The bow was one he found in a Chasind Cache in the wilds. Then he removed a pair of greaves, which he strapped around his trouser legs.

"I heard you had become an arcane warrior," Levyn said.

"Yeah, I absorbed the knowledge of an Elvhen spirit, Alistair and Loghain also taught me a few things, the rest I picked up through practice," Daylen explained, pulling out a set of armour.

It was simple armour with no ornate decorations, which included a chest plate and shoulder pads. Pulling on the brown straps of the armour, Daylen adjusted the armour to his size.

"You were always finding time to sneak away from studies to watch the Templars train."

"I remember I took you with me once, last time I ever did it, you lasted five minutes before you got us caught," Daylen chuckled.

"One of the recruits called the senior Templars, you pointed out that he wasn't holding his shield properly, he gave us both smites for that," Levyn groaned.

"It was worth it though when Greigor chewed him out, and got Wynn to knock the recruits shield out of his arm, Templars and mages laughed together that day."

The two men laughed as Daylen removed a helmet from the chest.

"Do you know what happened at the Ferelden Circle?" Daylen asked.

"There were rumours, talk of a fire at the Tower, in the days that followed Ferelden Templars and mages were seen across the land, some helping refugees, some attacking villages," Levyn explained.

Daylen put on the helmet, it was a simplistic helm that covered the back of the head and cheeks, and it also had a chin guard and a visor. But there were holes in it to expose the ears, and the visor was formed from two pieces of metal, with a smaller piece of metal linking them together, covering the nose. The gap the visor left for the eyes was huge, leaving no blind spots. But Daylen's fear had been that someone would use the gap and shove a sword through it. Every piece of the armour he found was iron, so he didn't want to keep it for long. The cache he set up was something for him to fall back on, if his other equipment was ever lost or broken.

"I could understand how Orlais or the Marches could fall apart, but I thought things were better here," Daylen said.

He took out a Ferelden style long sword and latched it to the holder on the back of his chest plate. A sheath for a long sword on the back was impossible, so in Ferelden latches were put on the back of armour.

"King Alistair and Queen Anora were making reforms, but the work was slow, some argued too slow, I don't know what the situation in the Ferelden circle was, but when the rebellions started across Thedas, Ferelden was the last to fall," Levyn explained.

Daylen took the final item out of the chest, and marvelled that it was still in one piece. The oak branch he got from the Grand Oak, it helped him breach a barrier, and also functioned as a mage staff. Daylen turned and offered the staff to Levyn. But a dreadful look crossed his face as he backed away from it.

"It can be mistaken for a walking stick, use it to protect your family," Daylen said.

"I haven't used magic in years Daylen, I'm more likely to hurt someone than help them," Levyn said.

"Sometimes that may be the idea," Daylen retorted.

"Once we get to the refugees it won't be necessary!"

"Will it? There's more going on here than just a Mage-Templar war, I don't think either group had anything to do with what happened at the Conclave, I think someone is simply using that to cover their tracks. Something much more, evil than just mages with understandable grudges against the system, in the days to come, everyone, no matter how innocent they are will be put in danger. Are you willing to let Dayne and Kiara be put in danger because of your fear?" Daylen asked.

"I am afraid of what my magic can do, and there is nothing wrong with that, blood magic always has a price, it gave you red eyes, and robbed you of the ability to use healing magic, no matter how much you studied it, what has it cost me?"

"Quite a bit already, I'm not asking you to use blood magic, I'm asking you to protect your family," again Daylen offered him the staff, and again Levyn backed away.

Daylen shook his head, before sliding the branch onto a strap on his bag. He brushed past Levyn and returned to the camp. Kiara and Dayne had fallen asleep in one another's arms.

"Stay with your family, I'll take watch for the night," Daylen said.

"Are you sure?" Levyn asked.

"Well if you guard us and someone comes we'll probably be dead!"

"Very funny!"

"No, it's not," Daylen huffed, walking past Levyn again and leaning against a tree.

* * *

Storm Coast

Ah the Storm Coast, with its giant spiders, bandits, apostates, and the crashing waves and lightning slamming into the ground. Durad found his group, well Solas and Varric falling behind him. The two were taking the natural paths, whilst Durad was climbing over some of the rocks, and walking through the trees. They weren't unfit, just unused to climbing the way Durad was. When Durad slid down a hill, grinning and giving them a wave from the bottom, the pair simply walked down the path. He could still here them talking though, try as he sometimes did not to.

"By the end of Hard in Hightown, almost every character is revealed as a spy or a traitor," Solas said.

"Wait, you read my book?" Varric asked.

"It was in the library, everyone but Donnen turned out to be in disguise, is that common?" Solas inquired.

"Are we still talking about books, or are you asking me if everyone I know is a secret agent?"

"Are there many tricksters in Dwarven literature?"

"A handful, but they're the exception. Mostly they're just honouring the ancestors, it's very dull stuff. Human literature? Now there's where you'll find the tricky, clever, really deceptive types," Varric explained.

"Curious," Solas said.

"Not really, dwarves write how they want things to be, humans write to figure out how things are," Varric said.

Thankfully, before they could get into a conversation about the fall of the Dwarven Empire, they arrived at the rendezvous point. It was at the beach, overlooked by the cliff. Boats had landed in the dirt, and the men who came from those boats were met by a company of mercenaries. Most of the men wore the same armour as Krem, but others wore leather armour or Ferelden man-at-arms, Durad even spotted a few dwarfs and a Dalish Mage. Varric and Solas drew out their weapons, but Durad raised his hand.

"Wait, let's see what they've got," he said.

The men the mercenaries were fighting, weren't Templars, but they did have mages amongst them. Their robes were too fancy to have come from circles though, and they wore armour with them. There were archers and warriors amongst the unknown force, many of them using wall shields. But the Chargers lived up to their name, crashing through the shocked ranks of their enemies. Several of the enemies were piling onto something.

Suddenly, the men were thrown aside, and a giant of a man rose from the pile. He was a Qunari, taller and bigger than Durad (though he had a bit of a girth) with horns that stretched out of either side of his head. A patch covered one of his eyes, and his chest was bare, protected only by a harness. This was the infamous leader of the Chargers, the Iron Bull. Raising his axe over his head, the Iron Bull split one of the men's shoulder's open. He then pulled the axe out and crushed another's head with it. The mercenaries were ruthless, and as well coordinated as Cullen's men.

'Definitely recruiting them,' Durad said.

He raised his hands as he walked over, showing the resting mercenaries that they were no threat. Iron Bull placed his axe on the ground and looked towards Durad, grinning ear to ear.

"Chargers, stand down, Krem, how'd we do?" he asked his lieutenant.

"Five or six wounded chief, none dead," Krem said.

"That's what I like to hear, let the throat cutters finish up and we'll break out the casks," Iron Bull said.

He laughed as Durad walked over to him.

"Hot damn, it's true, oh the Chantry must love you. A Qunari mercenary is the Herald of Andraste, who'd have thought?"

"I see I'm not the only one doing well for myself," Durad said.

"I get by," the Iron Bull then sat on a nearby rock, motioning to Krem. "I assume you remember Cremisius Aclassi, my lieutenant?"

"Good to see you again, throat cutters are done chief," Krem said.

"Already? Have them check again, I don't want any of those Tevinter bastards getting away, no offence," Iron Bull said.

"None taken, least a bastard knows who his mother was, puts him one up on you Qunari right?" Krem smirked as he walked away.

"Technically I'm not Qunari," Durad muttered.

He then looked at the bodies of the landing party.

"Tevinter? They're from Tevinter?" he asked.

"Could be a bunch of idiots looking to take advantage of the chaos in Ferelden, or it could be something else, something to be looked into," Iron Bull explained and Durad nodded.

"You have a good group here, the price is something Josephine's got covered, but you'll have to run everything you do by Cullen, he has command of the army," Durad explained.

"That's okay, but you're not just getting the boys, you're getting me," Iron Bull said, causing Durad to raise an eyebrow. "You need a frontline bodyguard, I'm your man, whatever it is, demons, dragons? The bigger the better!"

As he spoke Iron Bull stood up and walked with Durad, away from the massive axe. A sign of trust probably, but an awkward look crossed Iron Bull's face.

"There's one other thing, might be useful, might piss you off," he said. "Ever hear of the Ben-Hassrath?"

"I learned of the Ben-Hassrath from my parents, they are the enforcers of the Qunari, and the spies," Durad said.

"Yeah that's them. Or, well, us," Iron Bull said awkwardly.

He showed no signs of fear as Durad's eyes narrowed, and his hand drifted to his dagger.

"The Ben-Hassrath are concerned about the Breach, magic out of control like that could cause trouble everywhere. I've been ordered to join the Inquisition, get close to the people in charge and send reports on what's happening. But I also get reports from Ben-Hassrath agents all over Orlais, you sign me on, I'll share them with your people," Iron Bull elaborated.

Durad nodded his head, though hesitantly, and actually gripping his dagger tightly. He mulled it over, remembering all the things his father told him about Ben-Hassrath, but also Qunari war parties.

"I think I understand why you've told me this, and why the Qunari are involved. If things are worse than they are, they might send an invasion force, my father told me what an invasion force can do," Durad explained.

"Then I'm sure you realize it's something the South doesn't want to see, and believe it or not I don't want to see it either. I'll give your people information, and I'll send reports to keep their minds at ease," Iron Bull said.

"Appreciated, but there's something else my father told me about Ben-Hassrath, it actually fits this story I heard about," Durad let himself relax, letting go of his knife as he patted Iron Bull on the shoulder. "Solas and Varric talked about tricksters, well for Vashoth children, Ben-Hassrath were those tricksters."

Before the Bull could speak, Durad continued, looking out at the sea.

"You see there was this little boy, Durad was his name, his parents were a little cold, not horrible but not exactly warm. He felt alone, but one day he meets a fellow Qunari, a woman no doubt. The boy thinks, 'maker, she's kind and encouraging to me, everything mother isn't'. And then this woman tells Durad that his mum and dad are leading him down the wrong path, that there's a better way. For a moment, Durad considers it, then he thinks, 'I should talk to mum and dad'. The woman is still warm, she holds Durad's hand and tries to drag him away."

"But then, Durad's father comes around. He tells Durad to get away from her, she's Ben-Hassrath, and she'll take him to a place where his destiny will be decided for him. The warmth in the woman's face fades, and she curses Durad's father, still trying to carrying the boy away. Then, Durad's father tackles her, and slits her throat. He doesn't enjoy it, but when it comes to someone taking his boy away, he doesn't hesitate."

"The point of that story Bull, was that Ben-Hassrath can be tricky, they know what to say, they know how to act. Yes, they'll probably genuinely be your friend, but, when push comes to shove, they'll choose the Qun...every...time," this time, Durad gripped his dagger as he walked up to the Iron Bull. "Now I understand, that if it's a choice between the Inquisition and what the Qun demands, I understand you'll pick the Qun. But if what you choose puts the Inquisition in jeopardy, or it endangers me and my own, well Bull I want you to know that just like that little boy's father, I won't like it, but I won't hesitate to cut you down!"

There was a look of fury across Durad's face, the kind Solas and Varric had never seen before. But he dropped it as Bull slapped his shoulder. Both Kossith chuckled.

"You do what you need to do," Bull said.

"In the meantime, how do you feel about killing some giant spiders before we save our men from some bandits?" Durad asked.

"Like I said," Iron Bull began, lifting his axe onto his shoulder. "The bigger the better," he grinned.

Despite their attitudes and how they left things, Durad still had his dagger half drawn. When Iron Bull took the lead, he sheathed it, but still held it, remembering what his father said.

_"You cannot rely on the kindness of strangers!"_

Next Chapter 10: Kindness of strangers part 3

* * *

Hope everyone enjoyed the chapter. You'll notice some of the items Daylen got from his cache were actual in game items. The armour however was inspired by the first armour Guts wears in Berserk. More companion characters will appear next chapter, and Daylen finally encounters some members of the Inquisition.


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age

Hope everyone enjoys the chapter

* * *

Resurrection

Chapter 10: Kindness of strangers part 3

Thankfully, they had not run into templars or apostates. Daylen hoped he wouldn't need the sword or the armour for their journey to the crossroads. Dayne was sleeping in his mother's arms, and Levyn was picking some of the herbs they passed. Daylen raised his hand, stopping their little group. He could smell something familiar, a dead body. The simple wave of his hand was all the couple needed, to know that only Daylen could advance right now. Keeping his hand on his sword, Daylen walked up the hill. He found the body, a templar, lips bruised and throat burnt. A letter was grasped in his hand, close to his chest. Forcing the man's hand open, Daylen checked over the contents of the letter.

_"Ellendra_

_I don't know how this will reach you, but with the last strength of my shaking hands, what else could I do but write you?_

_Whether it be the magic of this cursed breach, or the maker punishing me for breaking my vows, the end is coming. The terrors are with me more often than not. I came up here to try to find some peace with these believers, but the platitudes they mouth are cold comfort. If my mind falls to demons or my own darkness, I fear that even a weakened templar will cause too much harm. I took a draught of bitter herbs, it will be over soon._

_I wish my weakness will not stop me from meeting you. With your phylactery, I knew just where you where. But the madness of your side and mine was too great a gap._

_Maker save you, stay safe, you need no circle if you carry it within you._

_Love,_

_Mattrin."_

Reaching into the man's bag, Daylen took the few sovereigns he had and the phylactery. The dead didn't need money, and Ellendra deserved the same choice Jowan had with his phylactery. Tucking his arms underneath the man's back and knees, Daylen picked him up and carried him to the rocks. With as much respect as the situation demanded, Daylen took off the man's armour and put it in his bag. Burning the body would be easier without the armour. The man didn't want to cause harm to others, he escaped his own darkness, and Daylen intended to make sure his corpse would escape the claws of a demon.

_"Let the blade pass through the flesh,"_

_"Let my blood touch the ground,"_

_"Let my cries touch their hearts, let mine be the last sacrifice."_

As he spoke the only prayer he liked, fire gushed out of his hand, slowly consuming the man's body. Levyn made sure Dayne didn't see exactly what Daylen was doing, as he and his wife walked up to meet Daylen.

"A templar and a mage found love, but one at least was too scared to fight for that love, this war needs to end, the system that pits people against each other needs to end. People need a world where mages are trained, not enslaved, the kind of world where Dayne won't have to fear his magic, if he ever gets magic," Daylen explained.

"What are you going to do with that?" Levyn asked, pointing at the phylactery.

"I'm going to take it to the person this man loved," Daylen said.

He closed his eyes, and focused with his magic. His hands let out a subtle, gold glow around the vial of blood. When Daylen opened his eyes, he had clarity in them.

"She's at the crossroads," he said.

Daylen motioned for the family to follow him. They renewed their walk, this time passing through a row of trees. Dayne was awake at this point, and spent some of the time walking as well. He skipped close to Daylen, but then began trying to mirror the way Daylen walked, his back slouched, he even carried his little bag with one hand over his shoulder, exactly the way Daylen carried his bag. Levyn and Kiara laughed, and a smile crossed Daylen face. He patted Dayne's head, walking ahead of him slightly. The boy picked up a nearby stick and began swinging it like a great sword, raising it high like a hero of legend.

'Nearly every night, Dayne has asked to be told the story of the warden hero, I have told him of the man, and he is every bit the hero fairy tales make him out to be. But I have never told him of what it took for him to be like that, of my betrayal,' Levyn thought of the past, and of his son.

He never saw hatred in Daylen's eyes directed at a person. The only time he did see it though was when he was asked to pray by a revered mother, or when he saw a religious icon. The very first time was when Daylen studied the chant, in depth, it took him all day between lessons. But Levyn didn't doubt that Daylen committed the verses, the both altered and unaltered, to memory. That night, Levyn would often see a frown across Daylen's face. He hated religion, the idea of people giving up and leaving their fate in the hands of something that didn't exist. But he respected their faith at least.

"The Maker must be guiding you somehow, for you to find the phylactery of a mage in a place you're going to," Kiara explained.

"Nope, I just have a good nose, and I know what a dead body smells like," Daylen retorted.

He had made sure Dayne was ahead when he said that. The boy was looking at some of the herbs growing beside the trees. Daylen caught a light shining in the distance, the kind that reflected off of armour.

"Get Dayne, now," he commanded.

Levyn and Kiara looked at one another for a moment, before they ran to get their child. When they reached them, a trio suddenly appeared over the hill. An elf with badly cut blonde hair and a bow, a dark skinned woman with the most ridiculously styled clothes Daylen had ever seen, and a short haired woman in Seeker armour. Daylen and Cassandra widened their eyes slightly, recognising one another from the distance.

"We finally found you," the seeker said.

* * *

The Storm Coast

Getting into the Blades of Hessarian's camp was easy. They were bandits, but they took their traditions seriously. Upon obtaining the mercy crest, Durad wore it proudly, casting the illusion that he truly believed what the bandit's believed. For all intents and purposes, he was one of them, and they let him and his companions into the camp with no incident. There was one however who did not agree with Durad's entry.

"The Herald of Andraste, finally we meet," the leader of the blades said.

He stood up, raising the axe he was carrying. Two Mabari hounds, both armoured, flanked him, snarling at Durad and his companions.

"I don't suppose you'll just let our people go will you? You leave us alone, we leave you alone?" Durad asked.

"No," was the man's deadpan response.

"Let me get this straight, you've got all these men, all these weapons, and you're happy with using them to rob people?" the herald asked.

"You may wear that crest, but you understand little of our ways," the leader retorted.

"We do not sow...oh wait, those are the other guys, a thief is a thief, doesn't matter what kind of grand code he has to justify it. Despite my little group, we don't want to kill humans, we'd rather be closing rifts and killing demons. But if you aren't willing to relent, why don't we settle this the old fashioned way?" Durad asked.

The blade leader punched his chest as he stepped forward. His hounds barked and ran around him, baring their fangs and snarling at Durad again.

"Wait, I was thinking more single combat," Durad said.

"The hounds are my weapons," the blade leader retorted.

"In that case, if you get to sink your hounds on me," Durad grinned as he looked over at Iron Bull. "I get to throw my Bull at you," he said.

A grin spread across Bulls face as he cracked his fists together. He clicked his neck into place and took his axe off of his back. Durad drew his daggers as the other Hessarian blades began to gather around them, watching the fight and banging their fists against anything wooden they could find, making a drumming sound that echoed into the woods. The blade leader sidestepped with his hounds, walking around the two Qunari.

"Five sovereigns on our boys," Varric said to a nearby bandit.

Durad took a deep breath and then ran forward.

"Boss, tell me when we start," Iron Bull groaned.

The hounds jumped, only for both Ox-men to head butt them, throwing both dogs aside with a yelp. Durad deflected the bandit leader's axe, and then stabbed him in the arm. The man dropped his axe, which was quickly caught by Durad. Bull however, swept his axe through the man's right arm, taking it off. The man's screams echoed through the camp. He fell to his knees, looking up at Durad with fear in his eyes.

"I yield, please Herald of Andraste, show me mercy," he said, lips quivering.

"I don't think the lesson has been taught yet," Durad said.

"What lesson?" the man asked.

Durad crashed the axe through his head.

"Don't fuck with the Inquisition," he snarled.

The blades of Hessarian at first muttered amongst themselves. Then they threw their fists into the air, chanting the name of the herald. When scouts came into the camp, they planted the Inquisition flag . With the blades in his pocket, Durad returned to the little shack his men had been imprisoned in. Some of Leliana's scouts were already there, satisfied smiles on their faces as the soldiers flocked to Durad's side.

"Thank you herald."

"You saved us."

"I thought they were going to kill us, thank you!"

Durad raised his hands, cutting their praise short.

"Thank you, all of you, but our work isn't done here, are you all ready to get back into action?" Durad asked.

The men raised their fists and yelled out in agreement.

"Good, your captors have seen the light, and will now stand with us as allies. Our newest allies, the Bull's Chargers, have found Tevinter forces landing on the Storm Coast. Use the trees to build watchtowers near the beaches, if Tevinter attempts to land again, we will be ready. Meanwhile, my companions and I will go deeper into this land, close the rifts and clear a path for us to establish a stronger presence in this land, now go, fulfil your duty to the Inquisition!"

Again the men cheered, and ran off to do as they had been told. Durad grinned as he turned to his companions.

"Looks like you've got the makings of a leader in you," Iron Bull said.

"You inspired them, good work," Solas said.

"It's not that hard," Durad muttered.

They continued walking along the Storm Coast, closing one rift after another. His companions slayed the demons, and he closed the rifts, feeling a greater understanding of his power the more he used it. It became as much a part of his routine as any other job, find a rift, kill the demons, close it, then repeat. Find the rift, kill the demons, close the rift, find the rift, kill the demons, close the rift, and he repeated it every time. He planted the Inquisition flag at landmarks, and established more camps. As members of the Inquisition, the chargers and the blades build tents and watchtowers, Durad sat on a rock outside the camp, taking a momentary respite.

"You fought well against the blade leader," Solas said, walking up to Durad, taking a seat beside him.

"But you didn't approve of me killing him like that?" Durad asked.

"If he had his way, all of your men would be dead, and he would have carried on robbing the innocent," the elf said.

"I needed to make an example of him too," Durad said.

"How so?" Solas asked.

"This one band I worked with was run by a very idealistic youth, he was a good leader who won his fair share of battles sure, but he followed his code a little too thoroughly. He didn't fail in his tactics, rather he failed in his decision making abilities. The young man failed to make an example of an enemy, and instead just showed him mercy, took his surrender at face value. Now at first, his mercy didn't seem like a bad decision at the time. But when a certain battle grew at its most intense, when he was in need of reinforcements, the man he spared, the man he thought of as an ally, abandoned him. The foolish young man got his band killed, because he believed in second chances," the Vashoth explained.

Taken aback at first by the story, Solas rubbed his mouth, and then looked at Durad.

"Once I saw a vision in the fade, it was Daylen Amell," he said.

Durad shook his head, getting off of the floor and turning to walk away.

"He showed mercy to a murderer," Solas said.

"Of course he did," Durad huffed dismissively.

"He showed mercy to a lost soul in need of guidance."

"Which is it Solas, a murderer or a lost soul?" Durad asked.

"A simple Sten of the Qun, a man who killed a family, but was spared by the hero, even saved by him. He went on to be a valuable ally, if Leliana's word is to be believed even a friend of the hero. Daylen made a judgement to grant mercy not just once, but three times that we know of, for the Sten, for the assassin, and for Loghain. You see Durad, in the fade, it is remembered as one man granting mercy to someone who needed it most, and binding them to a duty," Solas explained.

"A duty called redemption," Durad finished for the mage. "Some people don't need redemption, some people don't feel sorry in the least for the things they've done!"

"What do you feel?" Solas asked.

"Solas, you'd have to get me drunk to tell you that," Durad chuckled.

They walked up to where Iron Bull and Varric waited, both ready to continue walking the Storm Coast. Unbeknownst to the group however, a hooded man and his Darkspawn kin watched them. The Seeker smirked, redirecting his gaze to the Blades of Hessarian's camp.

* * *

Hinterlands

"Well, well, if it isn't the great Warden Commander, lord of the Amell branch family, hero and one time general of Ferelden, Sir Daylen Amell. A paragon of virtue and inspiration to all!"

Vivienne's voice was filled with its veiled contempt.

"I'm not a knight or a lord," Daylen said.

"Posthumously knighted," Levyn said.

Daylen groaned, shaking his head as he remembered.

"Indeed Daylen, you are no lord or knight, I mean, look at you," Vivienne motioned to Daylen's attire.

Levyn and Kiara opened their mouths to speak, but stopped as Daylen raised his hand.

"Fitting attire for a vagabond, no respect for his appearance, I mean that hair, it's like a hedgehog's quills, then there is your shoes, ugly little boots, your gloves are dirty, and your armour looks like it was made cheaply at a village..."

"Is she done yet?" Daylen asked Cassandra.

"Unfortunately I think her complaints could go on for a while."

"Do not ignore me," Vivienne said.

"Ordinarily I would call it rude to ignore someone, but considering the first things you've said to me are insults I believe an exception can be made," Daylen explained.

"I think that's his way of saying you're a bitch," Sera said.

"Do be silent Sera, grownups are speaking, although apparently you aren't that young. Well Cassandra you can return to Leliana with good news, the hero of Ferelden is indeed who he says he is, for all the good it does the Inquisition," Vivienne explained.

"What does she mean?" Levyn asked, his voice as low as a whisper.

Daylen looked at the Inquisition members, one eye on them, the other checking his surroundings. People were moving through the bush, but not in light armour like the Inquisition.

"You used my phylactery didn't you?" he asked.

"Yes," Cassandra said, removing the vial from her bag.

"Now we can take the apostate in," Vivienne said triumphantly.

"You probably haven't heard in that ivory tower you lived in, but every mage is an apostate now," Daylen said.

"I am the leader of the last loyal mages, those who haven't abandoned the circle and the principles it was built on."

Cassandra looked at Vivienne, her very gaze telling her to be silent and back off. She, like Daylen noticed that there were other people watching them. Slowly, both placed their hands on the handles of their swords. Sera took out her bow and an arrow, whilst Levyn held Kiara and Dayne close.

"The circle was destined to fall from the beginning," a new voice spoke out.

He was in a fugitive's mantle, and ran from the tree he hid by. A fireball flew from his staff, straight towards Vivienne. Standing with a confident, and elegant pose, she raised her hand. Like glass a field materialised in front of her, blocking the flames. The light in her hand shifted, turning into streams of electricity through her finger tips. She shot out an arc of lightning, throwing the apostate back.

"It seems we are to punish apostates after all," Vivienne smirked.

Cassandra and Daylen drew their swords as more mages stepped out of their hiding places. Alongside them were men with short swords and make shift armour. They ran towards the Inquisition party, seemingly ignoring Daylen. When two apostates ran into the fray however, their path was blocked by Daylen. They stopped, looking at him with confusion in their eyes.

"This is your fight too brother," one of the apostates said.

"You know the suffering we endured, this is for our future," the other said.

Daylen took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment. His grip on his sword loosened for but a few seconds, before they tightened. Lunging forward, Daylen stabbed one of the men through the stomach. He then pulled out the blade, and slashed the other across the throat, before he could conjure a fire. Stepping away from the bodies, Daylen looked at his shaking hands.

"YOU TRAITOR!" a hooded mage yelled.

Regaining his bearings, Daylen turned to the hooded mage. Passing fire through the sword, he deflected the mage's ice spell. Then he slammed his hand into the ground, creating a rock wall that blocked the following thunder spell. Meanwhile, the Inquisition women engaged their own foes. Cassandra easily deflected the swordsman's blows with her shield. She stabbed one man through the chest, then bashed another across the face. A third man swung his sword, only for an arrow to catch his arm. Sera fired a second arrow, hitting the man through the neck. She launched another arrow, hitting a mage before she could cast a spell.

"You're a long way from your pretty Orlesian tower whore," a mage said as he and his friends approached Vivienne.

She maintained her usual composure, huffing as two men with axes began walking towards her. Raised her hand, mana coursed through them, the energy shaped itself into a sword. With a single swing, she beheaded the two men. Then, jumping and swinging the sword, she cut the mage across the chest.

"These are the techniques I learnt from that pretty tower, techniques fools like you could never properly fathom," Vivienne said.

She created another bubble shield, blocking a stone fist. Then she slashed the mage across his throat, bashing his body aside with her staff.

"Kiara, stay close to me," Levyn said, moving towards cover.

Suddenly, a rebel landed near the family, drawing his sword.

"Levyn," Daylen turned to his old friend.

A force blast however threw him across the forest. The hooded mage was soon joined by three more rebels, to with swords, the other a fellow mage. They ran after Daylen, leaving Levyn and his family at the mercy of the swordsman.

"Stay away from us," Levyn warned the man.

"Maybe if I take your boy hostage, those women will surrender," the man said.

Suddenly, an arrow stuck through the man's neck. He fell to the ground, and Levyn breathed a sigh of relief, rubbing Dayne's head. Cassandra knocked a mage to the ground, then stabbed him through the chest. She looked to the entrance of the woods and cursed.

"This is exactly what we need," she snarled.

"What is it?" Vivienne asked, electrocuting one of the swordsmen.

"Templars incoming."

"More mages coming in from the right," Sera said.

"You mean the left," Vivienne said.

"Whatever, oh bollocks, we've got weird armoured blokes coming up our asses too!"

"How foul, wait...those are Tevinter soldiers," Vivienne gasped.

"ON MY COMMAND! KNOCK!" the Tevinter commander raised his hand as his archers knocked back their bows. "LOOSE!"

Outside the forest

He was no general, yet still, Amadeus Maxima had been granted command of troops. A hundred soldiers, given to him by the hammer of Seheron himself Maleficus. There was no greater honour, except for the task granted to him by the elder one. Kill the hero of Ferelden, their intelligence confirmed that the supposed herald, the one who took what belonged to the elder one was not in the Hinterlands. But Amadeus smirked as his scouts reported who was with the hero, the hero of Orlais Cassandra Pentaghast, and the leader of the Thedas mages Vivienne De Fer.

'A chance to weaken the Inquisition, without depriving it of its herald, my lucky day,' Amadeus thought.

"Move in," he commanded his infantry unit.

A line of soldiers walked into the forest, carrying their wall shields. The men leading them were mages, graduates from the circle in Minrathos, men eager to please their new god. Amadeus adjusted his reins as his horse whined slightly, frightened by the explosions he saw in the forest.

'How hard can it be to kill four fighters?' Amadeus wondered.

* * *

Storm Coast

Killing four fighters really shouldn't have been that hard for a giant. Fortunately for Durad and his group, they weren't the average fighters. Iron Bull's raw strength and axe swings were enough to push the ugly beast. The merc showed surprising speed as he rolled out of the way of its grander blows. It picked up a boulder, throwing it at Varric and Solas. Both distance fighters dived out of its path, and quickly rose as the creature stampeded towards them. A light suddenly enveloped the giant, causing it to shield its eyes.

"HEY OVER HERE UGLY!" Durad yelled.

He ran around the giant, throwing flash bombs at its face. As the giant swooped his arms around, Durad slid underneath them.

"Swooping is bad, but so are bees," Durad grinned, pulling a vial out of his bag.

He threw what Sera called a 'bee bomb', releasing the enraged creatures on the giant's face. It roared in anger as Varric hit it with bolts and Durad fired more arrows at it.

"I imagine that's giant for, 'AAAH NO! NOT THE BEES! NOT THE BEES!" Durad laughed.

"AAAGH MY EYES!" Bull added.

Iron Bull threw a harpoon through the giant's shoulder, pulling on it and keeping him away from Solas. The mage began to craft a fireball in his hands, gradually expanding it as Iron Bull continued to keep the giant at bay. Varric fired bolts from Bianca, and Durad dragged his daggers across the giant's legs. He cut the heel tendons, and Varric hit its back knees.

"I'm ready Iron Bull, let the creature go," Solas said.

As the warrior did as he was asked, Solas threw the fireball. It enveloped the giant's face, burning off some of its hair and making it cry out in pain. Iron Bull swung his axe into the giant's knees, finally knocking it to the ground. Durad jumped onto the dazed creature's head, stabbing his daggers through its eyes, and savagely slashing its throat.

"You may be big, but you still have a body like a human's," he said.

The fighting had left him and his companions quite tired. They rested near the corpse, drinking water and applying poultices. Solas looked at Durad with raised eyebrows as he began cutting through the giant's stomach.

"What is that in aid of?" he asked.

"Looking for more loot," Durad said.

"Smart boss, you can find useful stuff in monster corpses," Iron Bull said.

"But everything would be shrivelled and unusable," Solas said.

"Oh no, in fact some of the most useful things can be found in the stomach of a monster," Durad said.

"I shit you not elf, Hawke looked through a high dragon's corpse and actually found her champion's armour, how it ended up in there I don't know," Varric explained.

Durad and Iron Bull laughed as Solas looked away from the guts Durad pulled out of the giant's chest. Their laughter was cut short however as several scouts ran towards them. Durad didn't even bother wiping his hands as he rushed to meet them.

"Herald, please quickly," one of young men breathed heavily.

"Calm down and give your report," Durad said.

"Scout Harding sent a report from the Hinterlands, Cassandra went seeking the hero of Ferelden, she, Vivienne and Sera have become trapped in a forest with mage and templar rebels, she also tells us a sizable force from Tevinter is there too," another scout explained.

"We need to go and back them up," Varric said.

"Worried about the Seeker Varric?" Durad asked.

"Shit no, she's the second toughest lady I've met, scares the shit out of me as much as Aveline. Hell, if anyone can fight off an army it's her, Iron lady and Buttercup," the dwarf explained.

"No matter how strong they are, eventually the sheer numbers of their attackers will overwhelm them," Solas stated.

"There's more my lord, the Blades of Hessarian, we've heard the sound of fighting at their main camp, the reinforcements we sent didn't report back," the first scout explained.

"Fuck," Bull muttered.

Durad grit his teeth together, weighing his options. He turned away from his companions for a moment, blocking out anything they had to say. Lose the best resource they had in the Storm Coast, and what was essentially their foothold to aid the hero and their friends, or sacrifice the hero, their link to the Red Jennys, the leader of the loyalist mages and someone who was essentially the current leader of the Inquisition. Closing his eyes, he let out an annoyed grunt as he turned to the scouts.

"Haul your asses to the nearest camp, get on a horse and ride to Cullen as fast as you can," he told the first scout. "Lead the Chargers to the forest, we need to send a small detachment to rescue three Inquisition members," Durad explained to the other scouts.

"What about the hero?" Varric asked.

"Him too if he's there," Durad said.

"What about us boss?" Bull asked.

"We're going to support the blades, I hope you're all good at running," Durad grinned slightly as he broke off into a jog.

The scouts left in separate directions, whilst Durad and his allies double backed towards the blade's camp. They saw blood had spread across the grass, men had had their throats cut open, limbs dismembered, some even looked as if they had been mauled by wild animals. Durad cautiously drew his daggers as he and his companions got closer to the gate. The wooden walls of the camp had some parts of them broken apart. Arrows that weren't of human make were sticking onto the walls.

"Vashedan," Bull gasped, a sentiment Durad shared (his father sometimes used the term).

The four walked into the camp, and found a massacre. Blade and Inquisition members had been butchered, some pinned against walls with black lances, sword marks at their throats or chests, or arrows in their eyes. One Inquisition member crawled across the dirt, his face stained with blood and true fear in his eyes.

"Herald!" his eyes pleaded for help, as a foot came down on his back.

Durad narrowed his eyes at the man, or thing, who must have been responsible. He was wearing Seeker armour, but altered, the fingers of his gauntlets were clawed, even his boots had a more menacing point on the toes. A black, ragged cloak was wrapped around his neck, a hood half concealing his face.

"A darkspawn," Solas said.

The four widened their eyes at the Darkspawn's appearance beneath his hood. His face had the same skin tone, but it was smoother than any Darkspawn the four had seen before. One could mistake him for a pale human at first glance.

"Well, I was hoping to be finished before you got back, oh well," the 'Seeker' said.

He drew a knife from the back of his belt. It wasn't a darkspawn knife however, the steel was black and the blade was curved. The Inquisition soldier raised his hand, only for it to fall as the Seeker swept the blade across his throat. Durad grit his teeth together in fury as Varric aimed Bianca. Without waiting for an order, he fired. The bolt rushed out of the barrel, flying towards the Seeker's face. Suddenly, the Darkspawn's hand shot up, grabbing the projectile.

"You've got to be shitting me," Varric gasped.

"Got to be shitting me, I like that...what I don't like is fighting too early. We'll fight someday Dumb luck," the Seeker said, looking at Durad as he spoke.

He bit his lips, spitting blood onto the red puddle that had come from his last victim's neck. Durad and his companions stood their ground as the puddle sparked with electricity. The Seeker looked up at the sky, raising his hands.

"By the power granted by the Deifier, and the taint in my blood, come forth Forsaken Brother, rise from the shadow, unleash the rage within you, GREY BERSERKER!"

The four looked at one another, nothing had happened. The Seeker scratched his head, putting a hand to his cheek.

"Well, this is awkward, was it Grey Berserker? Mock Warden? I'll have to clarify when we get back, sorry about this we won't be a moment," the Seeker raised his hand, and then clicked his fingers together.

The sparking resumed again, and the puddle itself glowed before a great cry echoed out of it. It was like the cry of an eagle, but that cry quickly became an agonising roar as a head came out of the ground. Slowly, a black armoured figure rose, the plates of the armour shifting as if they were alive. The helm had a monstrous jaw on it and red eyes, possessing no gap to reveal any flesh. The jaws of the helmet moved as the 'creature' snarled. Durad looked up in slight awe as the monstrous knight raised a massive great sword over his head, resting it on his shoulder of all things. The weapon was more like a slab of raw metal than a sword, and the knight, just a few inches shorter than Bull, was carrying it with one hand.

"Try not to carve them up too much boy," the Seeker grinned, before he clicked his fingers again.

The knight roared and ran forward.

* * *

Hinterlands

The hooded mage remained in the bushes with his allies, watching the templars cautiously. He nodded to his allies, who raised their weapons. They threw fireballs at the knights, pelting them with explosions and electricity. The templars struck back, running towards their position. Suddenly, a helmet flew at one of the templar's heads, knocking him off balance. They looked to the bushes, where Daylen Amell emerged. He ran mana across his blade, shattering the templar swords, and cutting their throats with a single slash. Daylen quickly deflected another templar's sword, and grabbed his shield. Sticking the man's sword into the ground, he bit his lip and spat at the man's exposed face.

'That's why the new templar helmets are stupid,' Daylen thought.

The templar's brothers and enemies watched in horror as the man's face bubbled. The pain was all too much for him, rubbing the blood off of his face. Daylen then stabbed him through the face, and grabbed his shield.

'The power of blood allows me to control the taint within me, I can make my blood more acidic than a darkspawn's,' Daylen remembered that fateful trip to Warden's keep.

He kept his sword and shield raised in a templar pose, shield raised high and sword low. Then he shifted to a Ferelden one that Loghain taught him. Shield kept just below the sword blade, enabling an easy use of a phalanx. His enemies, mages and templars alike ran towards him. Magic infused with Daylen's weapons, mana appeared around them like cracks. Daylen slammed his shield into a Templar's knee, snapping the bone. Then he swept his sword through the man's chest, immediately stabbing the next templar through the neck. A mage threw fire at Daylen, who shielded himself with the templar body. Absorbing the fire into his sword, he blocked multiple blasts with his shield, dragging his sword across the ground and slashing through the mage's staff and face.

"By the Maker, he's, he's too good," the hooded mage said, watching as Daylen threw the shield, trapping a templar's arm against a tree.

Daylen then shot electricity out of his hand, electrocuting the trapped templar. Screaming desperately, one of the rebel swordsmen ran at Daylen with his sword raised over his head. He shot out a cloud of fire from his hand, burning the man until he fell dead at his feet. The hooded mage got a good look at his face, and began backing away as he began to approach. Daylen had blood across his armour and his eyes were narrowed into a look of fury. He began running forward, lifting his blade to drive it through the mage.

And drive it through he did, through the mage's gut. The blow forced the mage back against the tree, lifting his hood up. As the rage faded, Daylen gasped at what he saw. The mage was young, much younger than him, not even close to the expected age of his harrowing. He still had baby fat on his face, and the only reason his voice had broken was because he was dying. In his final moments, his true aged showed, his young face showing many emotions. Hurt about all else, sadness, denial, his pained scream reminded Daylen of the time he first broke a limb, doing something stupid.

"Your...fight...too..." the boy coughed and cried as he sunk to a sitting position.

Daylen stepped back, the blade sliding out of the boy's chest. But it only hurt the boy more, who desperately clutched the wounds, shaking his head as blood flowed from his mouth. Tears mingled with the blood, and the boy raised his hand, trying to reach something. Daylen moved to touch the boy's hand, but the boy's hand dropped. There was no light in his eyes, he was well and truly gone. Daylen stepped back, looking at his sword in disgust.

"You stupid boy...you stupid boy," he said, shaking his head as a few tears ran down his face. "Damn fool, why did you..." he squeezed his hands into fists as he raised his right hand to his face.

"Indeed he was foolish, to fight a mage of your calibre," a voice sounded from ahead of Daylen.

Shaking his head, Daylen raised his sword and turned to the Tevinter troops. They were being led by a mage carrying a staff with a blade on the end. Fire gathered in the man's hand as he pointed his staff at Daylen.

"Now you will face a truly experienced mage boYACK!" an arrow suddenly flew into his throat.

Daylen and the other Tevinter soldiers looked to where the arrow had come from, expecting to see that elf that was with Cassandra. Instead, he saw another archer, clearly a woman, judging from her athletic frame. She was wearing armour based on the famed 'Arms of Mac Tir', and kept her face concealed by a Vanguard helm. The bow she carried had an odd shield design on it, often seen from Avvar tribes. She threw her hand up, beckoning Daylen to run underneath the log she was standing on. Daylen broke off into a run as the woman knocked back another arrow.

Next Chapter 11: Kindness of Strangers part 4

* * *

Hope everyone enjoyed the chapter, next time we'll be introduced to another new companion character, who was also from the Origins game. These next few chapters will serve to cement Daylen's loyalties and push him into deciding what he's going to do.


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age

Amethyne was also a character, who actually appeared in the game, but you couldn't have a conversation with her, she was a background character in the Denerim Alienage. Players of the Human Noble origin probably know her mother Iona better.

* * *

Resurrection

Chapter 11: Kindness of strangers part 4

_Once upon a time there was a girl called Amethyne. She lived with her mother in the Denerim Alienage. Her mother was kind and hard working, she served a noble family to give Amethyne a future. One day however, Amethyne's world shattered. Her mother was killed by humans whom betrayed one another, found dead in the bedroom of a nobleman. There were those in the alienage who tried to treat her with kindness, yet never truly understood her pain. Then there were those who ignored her, calling her the daughter of a whore. One day, a man and his party came to the alienage, and saved it from slavers. He showed her both kindness and understanding, and when the monsters came, he inspired the elves to stand together, and inspired her._

* * *

Daylen ran as fast as he could, jumping over bushes and tree logs. Arrows flew behind him, and in front of him. He didn't pay any attention as to whether the archer was hitting her targets, at this moment, getting out of his enemy's line of sight was more important. An arrow bounced off of his chest plate and one brushed past his arm. The rest fell behind him as he slid underneath the tree the archer fired atop of. She too jumped into cover, looking at Daylen for a moment before she drew a pair of pick axes from her belt. To get back to Cassandra's group, they had to fight their way through several bandits.

"That woman in the black armour, we have a better chance of holding the line if we get to her," Daylen said.

The woman nodded her head. She ran with Daylen, both fighting their way through the bandits. Daylen beheaded one and stabbed another through the arm pit. The masked woman moved fast, crashing her axes through the weak spots in armour, or cutting any exposed flesh on her enemies. She hit a man once, then a second time, denting his helmet before she slammed her axe into his head. Yanking the axe free, she went behind Daylen as he released a cloud of fire, burning several of the bandits and leaving a wall of flame behind them.

"Amell, over here," Cassandra called to Daylen.

She had several arrows sticking to her shield. Sera was yanking her arrows out of anybody she saw, whilst Levyn kept close to his family.

"They are attempting to surround us, but we must not break," Cassandra said.

"The basic strategy when it comes to numbers is for the superior force to overwhelm the inferior one. They'll charge us and because of the open space we won't be able to defend against them," Daylen explained.

"Cassandra leads us Amell," Vivienne said.

Daylen ignored her and looked at his surroundings. The Tevinter troops were beginning to finish off the mages and templars, caring little that they shared the same target. He looked behind him, at Levyn and his family. Dayne was so frightened, clutching his mother's waist. In his place Daylen saw the boy he had killed.

'No, don't think like that damn it, don't think like that,' he scolded himself.

He saw a break in the formation, a gap leading through the forest, and up to a hill. As several Tevinter troops came into his field of vision, he began thinking of his strategy. Four of the men who attacked him were cut down by Vivienne and her mana sword.

"That's new," he muttered, looking at the blade for a moment.

The light from the blade, the flow of the mana, he analysed it. Even the way Vivienne's delicate fingers held the projected weapon.

"We need to move now, you two, stay with Levyn's family," Daylen said, addressing Sera and the archer.

"I won't take orders from you," Vivienne said.

"Fancy lady, get over yourself and take up a rear guard position with Cassandra," Daylen continued, strapping his sword to his back. "Everyone follow me, once we've gone past the trees, we'll run up the hill!"

He uncorked two mana potions and poured them down his throat. Taking a deep breath, Daylen broke off into a slow jog, just fast enough for his charges to catch up with him. They ran straight for the gap in the enemy formation. Mustering his mana, Daylen conjured fire from both his hands. They shot out of his hands as if they had come from the mouth of a dragon. The spectacle astonished even Vivienne, whom always held the highest confidence in her magic. But Daylen continued hitting the enemy flanks with a stream of fire, leaving a trail of fire behind him and his group, Vivienne thought of all that had been said about the warden. The truth over the power he held back, embarrassed and frustrated Vivienne. She saw Daylen as everything a person was supposed to fear from a mage, raw power with no limit, yet he was not feared. The family looked at him for hope, as if he was their light within a dark cave.

Even Sera, usually apprehensive of magic , saw a huge benefit to having Daylen lead them. His magic thrown at bad people, made him all right in her opinion. She hit any armoured prick she could with her arrows, and saw the shock in their eyes. This was a tactic of Daylen's, drive the superior force into shock and move through them. Cassandra was a proud woman, but she accepted that Daylen was a better tactician than her. Unlike his cousin, whom led people through the quality of her personality, and a now built up reputation, Daylen possessed the qualities of his personality, his reputation, but above all the ability to take charge, to create a tactic and turn a disadvantage into an advantage. Many had said that Daylen formed the strategy that his united army used to save Denerim, seeing him now made Cassandra believe that.

"NOW GO!" Daylen yelled.

He collapsed to his knees as they hit the end of the forest. What Cassandra first saw as a moment of weakness, then turned into an attack. Daylen shifted the earth with his magic, bringing up the ground, and unrooting a tree in the process. It crashed into the corner of the Tevinter formation, slowing their advance. The Ferelden archer grabbed Daylen, putting his arm around her shoulder. She ran with Daylen up the hill, as the Tevinter soldiers began marching out of the forest.

"Great, so we're at the top of a hill, I have dirt on my shoes, my clothes are drenched in sweat and...my goodness I am exhausted, what was the point of that?" Vivienne asked.

"They have to climb up the hill, with two mages pelting them with fire balls and three archers hitting them with arrows. It buys us more time, and a hill is a much more defensible position. Now down some mana potions and get back into the fighting," Daylen explained.

He pulled the staff off of his back as Sera and the archer knocked back their arrows.

"Do as he says Vivienne, and we might just make it through this," Cassandra said, taking the bow off of Daylen's back, and the arrows out of his quiver.

Sera and the Ferelden were better with the bow, and Daylen wasn't carrying a lot of arrows. But Cassandra saw the sense in his strategy, and intended on doing her part in it.

* * *

The Storm Coast

Something was magical about the berserk knight, he had some kind of control of his surroundings. Durad thought this because the air felt thick around the creature. Despite the weight of his sword, the berserker was fast, slamming it against Iron Bull's axe. If Bull had been a few seconds later, Durad had no doubt he would have been crushed. He still didn't trust Bull completely, but he forgot their tension when it came to the fight. Right now getting through the fight was all that mattered, not even Cassandra, Vivienne and Sera mattered. His survival, Varric's survival, Solas's, and even Iron Bull, their lives were the only ones he needed to worry about. Drawing his daggers, Durad ran around the knight and attack.

Still locking his sword with Bull's axe, the berserker used his gauntlets to deflect Durad's slashes. Durad continually adjusted the angle of his blades, trying to find a gap in the berserker's armour. But the air was heavy, and a subtle mist seemed to emanate from the creature. Kossith were tough, and even Bull and Durad found it difficult to breath in front of the creature. He took hold of his blade and swung it around, forcing Iron Bull to step back, avoiding a slash at his throat. The knight kept swinging the sword, making Durad jump backwards just in time. But the knight kept running at Durad, thrusting the hunk of metal that was his sword at the herald. Durad sidestepped each blow, but when one got too close, he had no choice but to deflect it with his daggers.

"Shit," he cursed as his blades snapped.

The knight pulled his head back, dodging a bolt fired by Varric. Again Varric fired, and the knight used his great sword as a shield. Durad used the opportunity to retreat and took out his bow, he fired several arrows that the berserker blocked with his sword.

"Keep back, I will stop him," Solas said.

Mana glowed in his hands as he raised his staff. A rift appeared above the knight, before a series of fireballs rained down on the ground like meteors. The knight ran around each of the projectiles, avoiding their point of impact. He jumped swinging his sword at Solas. The mage quickly slammed his staff into the ground, creating a fist from the fade that smashed the knight into the ground. Solas then froze the ground the knight laid on, trying to keep him bound. But the knight yanked his arms free, grabbing Solas by his neck.

"Elf," Varric called out.

He fired a bolt, hitting the knight's arm. It was enough for him to let go, allowing Solas to conjure a stone fist that threw the knight back. Durad picked two swords up off of the floor and ran alongside Iron Bull. They slammed their weapons against the knight's sword, which was used more like a shield in this case. The knight then countered, lifting the blade over his shoulder and swinging at both Kossith. Iron Bull swung his axe, hitting the blade of the knight's sword. Durad spotted the crack in the axe and kept his swords ready as the knight and Bull bought their weapons round for another clash. This time, the knight's hulking sword shattered Bull's axe. But as the knight brought his sword around to attack Bull again, Durad intercepted the blade, using all his strength to redirect it to the ground. With the massive sword imbedded in the ground, Durad thrust his swords towards the knight's visor.

CLANG!

The four Inquisition members widened their eyes in shock. The knight was holding both blades, keeping them locked in place. But that wasn't the half of it, the blades of the swords took on a black tone, as if the knight's very touch corrupted them. He slammed his heel into Durad, throwing him back. Durad felt his ribs break, the knight was inhumanly strong. A theory formed in his mind, that the Seeker had used the knight alone to massacre the soldiers. Still brandishing his broken axe, Bull deflected each strike the knight swung at him. The knight then thrust the blade forward, cutting Bull's leg. He then grabbed Bull's right horn, and in an astonishing show of strength, threw him at Varric.

"SHIT!" the dwarf dived out of the way.

"His strength is monstrous, like an ogre," Solas said.

The knight looked towards Solas and roared.

"Great job elf, you just pissed him off," Varric said.

The knight took a few steps forward, then stopped, as if listening to someone. He rested his sword against the ground, finally calming down. A rift of blood appeared below him, and slowly he sunk into the ground, disappearing. Durad rose from the ground, clutching his chest and grimacing in pain. He walked over to his companions, Solas and Varric had both gathered around Iron Bull.

"Shit boss, should have seen it really," Iron Bull said.

"What's wrong?" Durad asked.

"The weapon he wielded was poison," Solas said.

"Luckily I take poison every morning," Bull grinned.

"You take poison?" Varric asked.

"Oh yeah, a miniscule dosage every morning, slowly helps build up a resistance, anything short of a blight that is," the Ben-Hassrath explained.

"So poison doesn't affect you?"

"Oh I wouldn't say that, I'm actually feeling a little groggy right now," Bull's eyes rolled into the back of his head, as he slammed head first into the ground.

Durad gave the giant's body a kick, eliciting a grunt from him.

"Tough bastard," Varric said.

"Have you ever seen anything like that? A non mage just summoning a monster?" Durad asked Solas.

The elf lowered his head for a moment. It seem a mixture of contemplation and pain, like he was thinking of a distant memory.

"Once I saw what the elves once were, the society they once created, fantastic cities that could float over the land, a life that spanned centuries, and magic that none in Thedas have possessed, but this is...something new," Solas shook his head, as if he rejected the very idea of a magic he didn't know of.

"I've seen Darkspawn before, that didn't look like any Hurlock I've encountered," Durad said.

"I had seen a memory in the fade, the commander of the Amaranthine Grey Wardens, once encountered darkspawn that could talk. They have been referred to as 'awakened' darkspawn," Solas explained.

"That makes them so different?" Varric asked.

"They aren't influenced by the compulsion to seek out the old gods. An ordinary darkspawn can solve problems, but an awakened one can apparently grasp social concepts."

"He seemed to grasp the concept of awkwardness, he even had a sense of humour," Durad said.

"Well, looks like the list of suspects for Haven now includes darkspawn, we should get back and tell the others, oh and in case it wasn't obvious, I'm not carrying him," Varric said, grinning as he put Bianca on his back.

"I lack the strength to even drag him," Solas said, hastily following Varric.

"Really people, shit," Durad muttered.

He grabbed Bull's arms and lifted them over his shoulders. Durad began dragging Bull behind him, his head perking up as he felt something. Bull groaned but there was a smile on his face.

"Hmmm, I love read heads, oh don't worry, all you have to do...is submit to the Qun," he muttered.

"OOOOKAY!" Durad suddenly dropped Bull, shaking his head at the bulge on the Ben-Hassrath's trousers. "I'll drag you back to Haven, and I don't care how many rocks your head hits on the way."

* * *

Hinterlands

They had bought down quite a significant number of soldiers, but they were running out of arrows. Cassandra was using her shield to protect Sera as she pulled her arrows out of the bodies on the hill. Vivienne and Daylen were still hitting the soldiers with spells. But they were still getting closer to them. Daylen chained lightning through several of the soldiers, and Vivienne froze one of the mages leading the charge.

"We are going to die, because you were foolish enough to lead us here," Vivienne said.

He ignored her, stabbing his staff into the ground. Daylen cupped his hands together and closed his eyes. Gold mana flowed around his body, catching the attention of Vivienne and Cassandra.

"What is he doing?" Sera asked.

"The perfect storm," Levyn said, then smirked as Daylen opened his eyes.

His red pupils were glowing as he raised his hand, fire gushing from his gloves. The air around the Tevinter soldiers became distorted, before fire began to ignite, and swirl around them. They screamed, armour fusing to their skin as the firestorm rushed through the ranks. Sweat gleamed off of his face as Daylen raised his hands again, sparks of electricity coming out of his eyes. The electricity on his fingertips swept over the ground, burning a circle around him. Daylen then threw his hands forward, forming another distortion above the Tevinter troops. Bolts of lightning crashed down on the soldiers, piercing through armour, dropping bodies to the floor.

"He's not done yet," Sera said.

"Impossible, his mana should be drained," Vivienne gasped.

Daylen let out a pained yell as an icy mist burst out of his mouth. He again raised his hands to the sky, bringing down a blizzard on the front of the advancing Tevinter soldiers. Then he slammed his fist into the ground, shaking it, creating a crack in the middle of the Tevinter squad. But it still wasn't enough, the troops kept on advancing. In all, there were still 75 soldiers left, this time they advanced as a shield wall.

"Okay, epic moment over, now we're dead," Sera said.

"Mommy," Dayne cried.

Levyn looked at Daylen, he was crouched on the floor, huffing and puffing as if he had run miles. He'd pushed himself to conjure spells, drawing on pure willpower, it inspired Levyn, but angered Vivienne. She however kept her focus on the Tevinter soldiers, waiting for the inevitable attack. But Levyn's eyes were locked on Daylen, he didn't see fear in his friend's mouth, he saw a smirk.

The line of soldiers stopped, for all heard the blaring sound of a horn blowing. Both the Tevinter force, and Daylen and his companions looked to the right, beyond another hilltop.

A force of horsemen rode down the hill, at the front was someone Daylen recognised as Bevin. He raised the green blade, the light reflecting off of the silverite plates he wore over his clothes. Then he swung the blade, a command for one line of the cavalry to go forward. The men and women of Bevin's mercenary force wore red clothes with plates of grey and gold armour, and helmets of various makes. The first row of horsemen reached for the crossbows on their saddles, firing into the line of soldiers. Several of the troops were killed, but it was just the opening attack. As the first line of riders began to reload, Bevin moved back in front with his own squad. The riders behind them drew their swords and braced themselves. They smashed into the Tevinter troops, slashing and riding on top of the opposing force. The attack was swift and brutal, and the riders moved back around, to attack the Tevinter force again.

"Get back in formation, they're just cavalry, we still have the advantage of numbers," one of the mages leading the troops said.

An arrow suddenly flew through the back of his neck. The Tevinter troops turned, seeing archers on the hilltop, Inquisition scouts. Scout Harding moved in perfect synchronisation with her archers, pulling an arrow out of her quiver, knocking it and raising the angle of the bow. The Inquisition archers fired a volley, shaving the Tevinter numbers again. They stopped as Bevin's cavalry once again charged through them. Bevin beheaded a gladiator, then took a spear off of the ground. It had the Tevinter banner on it, and he threw it at a mage before he could cast his spell. The mounted crossbow wielders took molotovs out of their bags, lit the fuses, and threw them at the soldiers they passed.

"Incredible, so that's what the perfect storm was for, to draw the attention of your allies," Cassandra said.

"I knew someone had to be following either of our groups," Daylen said.

He got off of the floor and took up his staff. Trading the staff for his sword, Daylen uncorked more mana potions and poured them down his throat. He added a poultice to the mixture and began to move forward. Cassandra and the Ferelden stepped forward too, both raising their blades as Daylen switched his sword to the half swording position. He slammed the pommel like a club against a gladiators helmet, swiftly moving behind him and stabbing the blade through his neck. Cassandra bashed a man's face in with her shield, and stabbed another through the chest. The Ferelden woman beheaded a man with her swords and kicked the head at another enemy.

"FOR FERELDEN!" the mercenaries yelled as Bevin raised his sword.

They rode into the forest, straight through the remaining rebel templars and mages. Easily cutting through the surprised and disorganised rebels, they rushed out of the trees and towards their real target. Amadeus widened his eyes in horror, something that seemed to spread through his horse as it stepped back. Bevin's crossbow men fired into Amadeus's honour guard, men who hadn't expected to fight. The crossbow men reloaded their weapons whilst on horseback, conveying how practiced they were.

"Retreat! RETREAT!" Amadeus yelled.

He turned his horse and began riding with his bodyguards, heavily armoured knights. The mage created an ice wall behind him, a last shield in case his men failed to kill the rabble. And fail they did, the cavalry line crashed into them and began cutting them down. Axes and maces smashed through helmets, spears pierced through armour, and swords swept across flesh. Tennax, wearing a Heavy Chainmail helm and gloves, drew two short swords from his back. He cut down one soldier after another, with pure hatred in his eyes, imagining them as the Tevinter slavers who took his mother. Bevin cut down one soldier and watched his friend cross his swords around the throat of one Tevinter gladiator, beheading him as if he used a pair of scissors.

Levyn could not shield his son from the sight of blood. But at least they were safe, the battle was won. The Cavalry rode around Daylen as he moved up to the hill again. They cheered at him, even more so than Harding's scouts. To them, he had led the battle as much as Bevin had. The Ferelden archer removed her helm, revealing a brown haired elf woman. She raised her fist and cheered, yelling out Daylen's name. It drove the army into a frenzy.

"DAYLEN AMELL!"

"DAYLEN AMELL!"

"DAYLEN AMELL!"

They were not just praising him, but officiating his return. He was real to them, their hero had returned and they hoped he would lead them.

"DAYLEN AMELL!" Levyn joined the men, shooting his fist at the sky continually.

"DAYLEN AMELL!" Scout Harding and her own group were part of the frenzy, and even Sera energetically joined.

At first silently, but then with equal fervour, Cassandra raised her fist and called out the name of the hero of Ferelden, the man who had been resurrected. Only Vivienne remained silent, her eyes narrowed at Daylen's surprised and modest face.

* * *

They returned to the horse village, and the Inquisition saw how the mercenaries had responded so quickly. The village was not far from the field, and Daylen's storm would have been seen by anyone on the watchtower. Bevin's band was assisting the villagers in setting up more defences, or even helping to carry supplies. The young man removed his helmet and walked over to Daylen, pulling his horse with him.

"So, are we good enough for you to use us?" he asked.

Daylen looked away from Bevin, at the other mercenaries. One was checking over his crossbow, and when he noticed Daylen looking at him, he offered him the weapon. The mage bowed his head respectfully as he took the crossbow, turning it and looking down the sight. He pulled on the strings, it was easier to pull than any other crossbow he'd touched before.

"I'd come up with a strategy involving crossbows, but I never would have thought it could be applied to cavalry. Crossbows are usually tough to pull, why are these different?" Daylen asked.

"It's the inside of the weapon, its built differently, the trigger is connected to a mechanism, the pull of the string is aided by a spring in the barrel, once the trigger is pulled, the mechanism releases the string and the bolt. They're limited in production though, so only our riders have them, the rest of our infantry use either crossbows or longbows," Bevin explained.

"Incredible weapon," Daylen said, handing the crossbow back to its wielder.

They reached the stables, where the horse master was in the process of putting the horses back. Daylen blinked in slight confusion, as the Ferelden archer from before came up to him. She was holding his old helmet, when he took it, she smiled and blushed as she twiddled her thumbs together. Daylen scratched his head for a moment, putting his face closer to hers, analysing feature of her face. Her eyes, her cheeks, he took away some of the muscle she'd gained in them over the years. He came across an image he recognised.

"You're that girl from the Denerim alienage, you were alone," Daylen said.

"Amethyne, my name is Amethyne, you saved my life Lord Amell," she said.

"I'm not a lord!"

"Posthumously declared," Bevin said.

It drew an annoyed groan from Daylen. But he quickly smiled and nodded his head at Amethyne.

"I'm glad you changed your fortune, that uniform, its Ferelden military though," he pointed out.

"After the second riots since the blight ended, King Alistair and Queen Anora created laws that barred businesses from excluding elves from employment. They also opened the military to elves, I joined and became a scout, I've served lords in Redcliffe, Highever and Amaranthine. My last deployment was for the Bann of Denerim Shianni," Amethyne explained.

"Shianni, she lived in the Alienage, she was the only one who saw through what those Tevinter slavers were doing," Daylen said.

"Yes, she was our Hahren a few years ago, things have gotten so much better for elves here."

"But in some ways, things are still the same," Tennax said, walking up to the small group.

"Indeed, for not even the great Daylen Amell can change how the world is!"

Scowls crossed the faces of all but Daylen as Vivienne walked over to them. They had known her for a few minutes, and already didn't like her. Vivienne cared little however, she stood away from the dirt of the stables and looked at Daylen.

"A fine tactic you displayed, if not foolish, what would you have done if your precious rabble hadn't come to save us?" Vivienne asked.

"I see your point, you think I was gambling, what do you know about fighting Vivienne?" Daylen asked.

"One must be ruthless, have a sound strategy and nerves of steel, whether it's the game or a battleground," Vivienne said.

"I can't speak for your experience, I myself have only fought in two full scale battles, the battle of Redcliffe and the battle of Denerim. Even at Ostagar I was away from where the fighting was at its thickest. You believe I was gambling, but isn't that what half of tactics is?" Daylen asked.

"Of course it isn't, one must truly know before they implement a strategy or a tactic," Vivienne retorted.

Amethyne narrowed her eyes in anger, and began to walk forward. Daylen however touched his shoulder and smiled at her. He bowed to Vivienne, putting his fist across his shoulder.

"Thank you for the advice, you obviously know more about this stuff than I do. I had the opinion, a wrong one, that tactics was a form of gambling. I believed that even when you have information, you never truly know exactly how your enemy is going to react, I assumed that most commanders will make several tactics on top of one another, sometimes only one tactic to turn a battle, with the hope that their enemy won't see through it and wont counteract it. It was wrong of me to believe that tactics in warfare was gambling, because there's always a chance that the general you're fighting is smarter than you, or the ranks of the enemy won't break because they're braver than your troops, it was foolish of me to think that."

There was no sarcasm in his voice, he sounded incredibly reasonable. The other's weren't sure if he was even being honest with Vivienne, or if it was a veiled way of mocking her. They hoped it was the latter, because Vivienne's lip twitched in a way that indicated she was annoyed. She rubbed the side of her head, coughing subtly to regain her bearings. Then a smirked crossed her face.

"I had heard a few things about you Daylen Amell, about your time in the circle. Sent to it when he was barely able to walk, a mediocre start of course, jovially rebellious at times. But then as you studied and practiced, and showed some originality, you began to make quite an impact. By the time of your harrowing you were already better than most, if not all of the junior enchanters at the time. None doubted that within a year, you would have surpassed the higher seniority of the Ferelden circle. Within ten, possibly five, you would have been the youngest man to have become first enchanter."

"You see I learnt all of this from your teachers, I met a few of them. Wynn and Irving in particular gave the most eye opening details about you. A man of faith, but not religious faith, whom backed it up with action. Someone not afraid to disagree with another, but not someone who openly mocked or threw aside the beliefs of others. A good mage, who threw it all away on sentimentality and helped a blood mage escape justice, whose still helping a blood mage escape justice."

The others looked at Vivienne in confusion, as she waved her finger at Levyn and his family. She smirked as Cassandra in particular looked at Levyn.

"What is the meaning of all this?" Cassandra asked.

"If you two are going to fight, take it out of my village," the horse master said.

"Oh we aren't fighting, unless Mr Daylen believes a blood mage is worth protecting again," Vivienne said.

"It's the natural state of any man to want to live, so yeah, I will defend myself," Daylen said.

"What do you mean Amell?" Cassandra asked.

"If a blood mage by definition is someone who has used blood magic, then yes I am a blood mage and yes I will protect myself. If you knew Wynn and Irving so well, well enough for them to tell you about me Vivienne, then you'd know that the first magic I ever performed was blood magic, it saved my mother and grandfather's lives, but cost me the ability to use healing magic," Daylen explained.

"Well, I may have lied in the fact that I knew them. Still it is a shame what happened to them, poor Irving lost his mind a few years after your death, he's an invalid now. As for Wynn, now that one is even sadder," Vivienne said.

"What happened?" Daylen asked.

"She was the first casualty of this mage rebellion."

Suddenly, Daylen appeared in front of Vivienne, grabbing her hand.

"What happened to her? What happened exactly? And what did you mean when you said Irving had lost his mind?" Daylen asked.

His grip was tight, and it actually hurt Vivienne. She tried to break free, frightened by the desperate, but angry look on Daylen's face.

"What do you care? You never cared for the circle!"

"No I didn't, but I care about Irving, about Wynn, about everyone who lived in the circle. I cared so very much," Daylen said.

He had a tear in his eye, and ashamed, Vivienne backed away as Cassandra stepped forward.

"You have said quite enough Vivienne," the Seeker whispered.

Daylen cast his eyes to the ground, thinking of Wynn, of Irving, of Levyn and his family, and that boy he killed. All victims, and potential victims, of what people were calling the mage-templar war. He'd heard of the damage done to the circles, yet all the fighting was in Ferelden. Where was this great war, where was this rebellion? All he saw were brigands attacking random settlements, he didn't see anyone actually trying to hit the seat of power, the source of the laws that created the circle and the order in the first place.

"I don't believe you, I don't believe that the damage is what you say it is, that the situation is as you say it is. Everything I've learned so far tells me a different story than what you're telling me. Like I said before, I'm going to find out the truth by myself, I'm not going to be led by anything you say," he said, looking between Cassandra and Vivienne.

It was about time he paid the mages, and the templars a visit.

* * *

Deeproads, underneath the Storm Coast

The Seeker walked confidently through the ranks of his brethren, despite many of them scowling and snarling at him. He was hideous to them, not that he cared. Fear and tainted blood kept anyone from stabbing him in the back, that and the berserker following him. They came to a halt at a chamber, one where the screams of mothers, and those who were mutating into mothers, echoed through the halls. Today's base was an abandoned dwarven thaig, one with secrets they could strip for their plans. The forges did little to silence the screams of the mothers, and the Seeker loved that about them, that true suffering could never be silenced. He walked to the steps that would lead to his master, but a giant of a darkspawn blocked his way. Like him, this Darkspawn's face seemed more human like in appearance, save for his ears and teeth and deathly white skin. He wasn't wearing armour, revealing muscles as big as any Qunari, and scars to match.

The Brute, as many of his brothers knew him by, narrowed his eyes at the Seeker.

"Go no further liar," he snarled.

"Come now brother, I have something important to tell our leader, you don't really intend on angering him do you?" the Seeker asked.

"I only let you pass because you have the carver with you, he is the Deifier's pawn and not yours," the Brute said.

He moved aside, still glaring at the Seeker as he passed. The carver/berserker moved ahead of Seeker and stood beside the other pawns. One was a white haired elf who had his face burnt, and wore black human armour, the decorations on the armour were twisted versions of the elven pantheon, he leant on a crossbow. Next to him stood a dwarf in legion armour, carrying an axe over his shoulder, the templar symbol was on his chest plate, but it had an X through it.

"Where is the Forsaken and the Observer?" the Seeker asked.

He looked to whom all the other pawns looked to. The man appeared to wear smooth, grey armour with no ornate markings, nothing stuck out. But it was partly covered by the hooded black cloak the man wore. He looked down at the birth of many darkspawn children, frowning as the women being fed darkspawn meat prayed.

"The Forsaken awaits your orders, but the Observer is still carrying out the task I have assigned to her. She's to pass on information to Daylen Amell, was your mission a success?"

The Seeker did not bow, for he knew his master hated that kind of worship. He was the Deifier, whom despised the very idea of a god. Yet, here he was, a greater leader of the darkspawn than the Architect or any old god.

"You wish for me to command the Forsaken?" the Seeker asked.

"Do what you have already been doing, be my spy master, just as the Brute is my general and the Emissary is my ambassador, sabotage or kill those who would be our enemies," the Deifier explained.

"I killed the leader of the blades, but the survivors seemed to have been picked up by the Inquisition, it was a good chance to test the summoning and chaining of the berserker," the Seeker explained.

"Good, the elf, Solas, is he powerful?" the Deifier asked.

"I think we're reminded him, that not even he knows the world," the Seeker grinned.

The Deifier continued watching the birth of new darkspawn, his red eyes indifferent to the suffering of others. He raised his hand, forming an outline of the inquisition symbol with mana. Upon looking at the symbol, he narrowed his eyes, and scrunched his hand into a fist, crushing the symbol.

"Now we will move onto our next task!"

Next Chapter 12: Kindness of strangers part 5

* * *

Hope everyone enjoyed the chapter, and the introduction of the secondary antagonist. If the Elder one is Durad's primary rival, the Deifier is Daylen's.

Next time we're introduced to one of my favourite companion characters, Blackwall, well, second to Cole :)


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age

Another update, finally introducing my favourite party member from Inquisition.

* * *

Resurrection

Chapter 12: Kindness of strangers part 5

The sky had been torn open, everything had been reduced to ashes. Daylen looked at his surroundings, he recognized the huts and the windmill, this was Redcliffe village. He was in his armor and holding a sword, it didn't have any blood on it. But still Daylen felt tired, and above all afraid. He began walking forward, trying to see if there was anyone here. He raised his blade as demons appeared over the hilltop. Daylen rushed forward and swung his sword into a shade, it suddenly passed through the blade like a ghost. Hearing a scream behind him, Daylen turned, and gasped. He saw innocent people being butchered by demons. But not just shades, mages, half mutated into Pride, Rage and Sloth demons. Innocent people were burning, and then a familiar voice echoed in Daylen's head:

**"They were right to fear you, they were right to cage you!"**

Daylen grit his teeth together as he ran at one of the pride mages. He drove his sword through his gut, and threw him away from the villagers he attacked. Daylen offered them his hand, yet still they screamed, crawling away from him, terrified by him.

**"You most of all mage, you have too much power!"**

Slowly, the villagers began to fade into dust, replaced by armoured Templars. They moved towards Daylen in a circle, their shields out and swords pointed at him. The knights got closer and closer, Daylen's hands shook as he looked at them. They showed no signs of backing down. He stabbed his blade into the ground and let out a yell, creating a pillar of fire that consumed the Templars. When the fire passed, his hands were bound. He was in what he could only call 'the gallows'.

"He's too dangerous for even tranquility," he looked down and saw Cullen, Josephine, Leliana and Cassandra.

"Alas, I was right all along, only those who surrender to the circle will survive," Vivienne said, suddenly appearing beside Leliana.

"I am sorry Daylen, but we can't let you carry on," Cullen said.

"You endanger everything the Chantry stands for," Cassandra glared at him.

"It's better for everyone if you die here, so that your naive ideas don't drive us to ruin," Alistair suddenly appeared in front of the group.

"It does the world no good for a lord, and a knight at that to treat commoners so fairly, we must restore the world to what it should be, the highers ruling over the lowers," Josephine explained.

"What say you Leliana?" Vivienne asked.

**"You will fail, you will fail!"**

Slowly, Leliana raised her hand, smiling as she gave Daylen a thumbs up.

**"In trying to find a salvation that benefits everyone, they will hate you for it, in the end, you will have no one!"**

Leliana's lips twisted into a sadistic smile as she put her thumb down. Daylen widened his eyes in shock, feeling a noose suddenly appear around his neck. Then he dropped, the sharp stop twisted his neck to the side.

**"YOU WILL FAIL!"**

* * *

Daylen lunged forward, breathing heavily. His sweat had turned to steam on his body. It was still night, Bevin's company had set up camp at one of the locations Daylen hadn't marked for the Inquisition. Putting on his clothes and leaving his tent, Daylen saw some of the mercenaries drinking merrily around the fire. Their victory the other day had given them plenty of reasons to be happy. Daylen walked towards one tent that was close to his, it had been set up for Levyn and his family. He bought up the flap, seeing the family lying together, sleeping peacefully.

He needed to talk to someone. It hadn't just been a nightmare, or a demon tormenting him in the fade. In the background of the nightmare, he heard not just that voice, but what he could only describe as a song. It was a language of sorts, but also a signal, one he heard every time Darkspawn appeared. Yet he couldn't hear it now, it was much different than what it had been during the blight. Daylen returned to his tent and put on his armour and a cloak. Clipping his sword to his armor, Daylen picked up his staff for a small moment.

Then that memory, that nightmare came back to him, and he dropped it. He picked up his helmet, carrying it with his arm over his shoulder as he walked into the nearby trees. Using the helmet as a bucket, Daylen began picking herbs, all the while looking through the gaps in the trees. He saw the stars, and lost himself in their tranquility. Then he heard it, the song. His sword instantly came off of his back, and he looked through the trees. He heard it once, then it stopped, then it started again.

"EVERYONE!" he yelled, running into the camp.

He created a fireball in his hand and shot it into the air, creating an explosion that woke up the whole camp. Levyn came out of his tent, urging Kiara and Dayne to stay inside. A shirtless Bevin came out of his tent, drawing the green blade from its sheath, two of the female mercenaries also exited the tent, both dressed only in night dresses, but carrying swords. Tennax and Amethyne ran out of their tents in full armour, keeping their weapons raised.

"ALL RIGHT EVERYONE! SPREAD OUT! SEARCH THE PERIMETER!" Bevin yelled.

Daylen joined the scouts in their search. He looked at the ground, the trees, the rocks, knowing that Darkspawn left a particular trail. The scouts were survivors of the blight, they too knew what to look for. But they found nothing, Daylen kept searching, and when he found nothing, he returned to the camp frustrated. Arthur, Bevin, Tennax and Amethyne waited for Daylen at a fire, all but Tennax with patient expressions on their faces.

"What the hell was that Amell?" the elf demanded.

"I sensed Darkspawn nearby," Daylen retorted.

"Daylen how exactly do you sense Darkspawn?" Arthur asked.

"It's not like Templars sensing Mages, we don't have to look for certain signs, we can literally sense when a Darkspawn is nearby. We hear this...I suppose song is the best term to describe it, but it's like Darkspawn are whispering it. You're hearing it in your ears, you hear it in your head," Daylen explained.

"No offence Lord Amell, but it sounds like insanity," Amethyne said.

"Damn right," Tennax huffed.

"Don't call me Lord Amell, I know what I sensed, and I hope it is insanity, because the alternative is much more concerning."

"What do you mean?" Bevin asked.

"We hear the song only when the Darkspawn are near, if we start hearing it when Darkspawn aren't nearby...then, it means...that we're approaching the time of our calling," Daylen lowered his head, rubbing his eyes, his fear reflecting off of them.

"What's the calling?" Tennax asked.

"It's when the taint within us begins to take hold, we start hearing the song constantly. When a grey warden hears his calling, he goes into the deep roads, specifically Darkspawn infested territory, and he dies in battle. But I should have at least thirty more years until my calling comes, at least that's what Alistair told me," Daylen explained.

The group remained silent, looking at Daylen with sympathy as he ran his hands through his hair. Amethyne however, suddenly clicked her fingers together, and smiled.

"I know, King Alistair was a rookie warden like you right? Why don't we find an older grey warden, someone who might be able to explain why you're hearing the calling early," Amethyne explained.

"We were going to wait until the morning to tell you Daylen, but most of the wardens in Ferelden and Orlais have begun to disappear," Bevin said.

"What?" Daylen swung his head around, looking at Bevin in shock.

"It started around about the time the divine held her conclave, grey wardens suddenly started to leave their homes, or their fortresses. I heard the Amaranthine Wardens are still around though," Arthur explained.

"We don't need to go all the way to Amaranthine, there's a grey warden in the Hinterlands with more experience than any of the wardens at Vigil's keep," Amethyne said.

"What do you mean?" Tennax asked.

"Before I left the army, I heard reports of people in the Hinterlands, being protected by a Grey Warden, a recruiter who goes by the name Blackwall!"

Amethyne ran over to Daylen and took his hands, giving him a reassuring smile.

"If we find this Blackwall, maybe he can shed some light over what's happening to you," she said, more hope in her voice than what Daylen could feel.

He hesitantly nodded his head, returning her smile.

* * *

Haven-Same time

It was well into the night, but still the inner circle of the Inquisition, Durad included, were fully dressed. Durad was dressed in his fine green shirt and trousers, an outfit he was sure he'd get comfortable in, along with the lifestyle. He gave all three advisors information on what he had found in the Storm Coast.

"Giants, Tevinter soldiers, and Grey Warden documents left behind, the wardens aren't the kind of people to simply leave their lore for passersby to find," Leliana explained.

"Which tells us that they left in a hurry, taking only food and their weapons," Cullen said.

"The surviving blades have been remarkably helpful in assisting our troops, we already have a forward camp built in case the Tevinter forces return," Josephine added.

"My concern is this Seeker, this Darkspawn, he used a form of magic that baffled even Solas," Durad said.

"Perhaps we could ask Vivienne when she returns?"

"Somehow I doubt Vivienne will know it either, then there was that knight, he looked human, yet that strength he had, the way he moved and yelled," Durad looked at the Hinterlands again, feeling the weight of the expectations.

Again, he would have to decide where the Inquisition would move next. The refugees in Lord Kildarn's lands were driven into Bann Traft's. Kildarn sent a letter of appreciation, and also a few bags of gold. The search through Haven's caverns resulted in the discovery of a few meagre trinkets, but it had also been discovered that the caverns ran far deeper than the Inquisition initially thought. Josephine had organised a soiree, which appeased some of the doubtful nobles, the Inquisition had gained a little influence with them. But the Chantry still remained, and with so many rifts closed, the stability of the land needed to be improved. The Teryn of Highever was also holding a memorial for Divine Justinia.

"We have received an offer from the blades, their leader apparently was able to secure caches of supplies," Cullen said.

"These supplies were stolen, we cannot openly accept them," Josephine cut in.

"But the Blades work for you now, let them keep the supplies, especially with the casualties from this Seeker," Leliana added.

"I agree with Leliana, a quick letter to them will suffice. Likewise a quick letter to the Teryn will do as well. Cullen, I want you to focus your troops on restoring the stability of the areas we have influence in, send out a mixture of veterans and recruits," Durad explained.

"It would stretch our forces thing, I can make arrangements with the nobility, they should be protecting their own lands," Josephine said.

"True, but as you are aware, Daylen Amell alone has been making his way across Ferelden, helping people. If he does not see the benefit of the Inquisition, people will flock solely to him. The Inquisition needs to show that it is there to protect people, Cullen, show everyone that we are not just here to close rifts, I will do the same in the Hinterlands," Durad explained.

"What about the clerics in Orlais, the ones who spoke out against us? They were not at the Conclave for a reason, they all have secrets and weaknesses we should exploit," Leliana said.

"A delicate hand is needed, we should focus on Cleric's who can be swayed, make their voices louder than those who oppose us," Josephine said.

"But if it goes wrong, the Inquisition will be seen as meddlers in the cleric's selection of a new divine," Leliana retorted.

"I saw the look in their eyes in Orlais Leliana," Durad said, leaning across the table. "Not you or your scouts, I saw them, I know how to spot opportunists, if there are those kinds of people amongst the clerics, they were not at the city."

"Then there are the secrets still left to uncover in the caverns."

"Which will wait, do we have any other issues?" Durad asked.

"Sera says we need bees," Cullen said.

"We may have a suspect in the divine's murder, in a town called Serault," Leliana said.

That got Durad's attention, and he turned to Leliana, waiting for an answer.

"Serault is a town on the farthest reaches of Orlais, known for its glassworks and tainted by its great Shame, an ancestor of the current marquis. Apostate and abomination, the Shame brought such disgrace upon Serault that even his name was forgotten. Serault is a pariah and has become refuge for outcasts and the strange. But Divine Justinia V considered releasing Serault from the punishment imposed by the Chantry for the Shame. She traveled to Serault on her way to the Conclave, going out of her way to do so. It remains one of the last places she visited before she died––––a detail that cannot be ignored."

"So you want to investigate Serault? I get it, obviously Cullen's off the table, so it's up to you two," Durad said, motioning to both Josephine and Leliana.

"I will send an emissary to the thousand windowed castle, I'm sure we will be allowed to carry out our investigations if we make an ally of the Marquis," Josephine explained.

"But the rulers of Serault are descended from the Shame, they cannot be trusted, I would go to the people instead," Leliana said.

Durad put a hand to his chin. Justinia going to Serault, and then dying at the Conclave, several clerics not being at the Conclave. Either the Marquis was an accomplice with the clerics, or it was the clerics alone and Serault was just a coincidental stop. Or perhaps the clerics themselves had nothing to do with it. He thought of the Seeker, a Darkspawn unlike any he had ever seen before, wielding power unlike anything he had seen before. People were looking for a logical, human reason for the explosion at the conclave, a criminal they could hang, just like they wanted to hang him.

"I'm kind of...important, to the Inquisition right?" he asked the advisors.

"You are the only one who can close the breach," Cullen said, "and already the troops like and respect you," he added.

"Then you'll appreciate it when I have a theory right?" Durad asked.

"Perhaps it is a shared theory," a voice spoke from the doorway.

A smile crossed Durad's face as Cassandra entered, still in her armour.

"We heard of Daylen's victory," Cullen said.

"Is he all right, did my idea work?" Leliana asked.

The concern in her voice was noted by all those present.

"It worked Leliana, Daylen Amell is who he says he is, his phylactery reacted exactly as you hoped," Cassandra explained.

"So he's decided not to join us?" Durad asked.

"I told him of what happened at Orlais, with the templars and the mages. He said something that...has some merit," Cassandra said hesitantly.

"What did he have to say?" Cullen asked.

"He said, that if it was either the Templars or the Mages, they would have taken credit for it, because killing the Divine would have profited them both more if they owed up to it as a statement. Yet, both groups are denying it, then he went onto explain certain other reasons both groups didn't do it. Opening the Breach contradicts the intentions of the mages because, if the world ends, what's the point of their freedom? He also said that producing destructive magic on the scale of the rift only gives more people reason to fear them, having everyone against them doesn't serve their purpose. As for the Templars, he said that they could possibly use this to frame the mages, but to unleash magic like that goes against their very purpose, that and they would have had to work with a mage to accomplish such a task."

"So he sees what I see," Durad chuckled.

The members of the group looked at Durad in confusion as he laughed.

"You guys have been focused on the obvious suspects, me, the Templars or the mages, you're distracted, basic tactics, draw your enemy's eyes away from you, and you can do as you please," he explained. "I think Amell is right, neither the Templars or the mages did this, but they are the key to ending it, let's keep getting power, then we can draw one of those groups into the fold," Durad looked at each of the circle members for a reaction, all were confused.

He chuckled, leaning across the table and elaborating with each chess piece he moved.

"Leliana, have your operatives check out the clerics, protect them if they need it, but ultimately I can't see them being a threat to us under their current state. Josephine, send someone to Serault, or go yourself, I won't throw aside a potential ally simply because of a family past. Cassandra, please get Solas, Varric, Sera, Iron Bull and Vivienne in here please," he asked the seeker.

Cassandra frowned at first, then ran to get the other frontline companions. Leliana and Josephine left to carry out their assigned tasks, Cullen however stopped and patted Durad's shoulder.

"What you just said, I agree with you and Daylen, I cannot believe that the Templars have fallen so far, nor can I believe that there are people within the old circle who would actually do this," the general explained.

"I'm glad we see eye to eye about this Cullen, personally what do you feel about Daylen, is he a threat or an ally?" Durad asked.

"Why ask me, Leliana knows him better," Cullen said.

"Yes, but Leliana's opinion of him is biased."

"I've seen Leliana make cold decisions, she's quick to cast aside friends if they are a threat."

"True, but not Daylen," Durad said.

"Why not?" Cullen inquired.

"She's in love with him," Durad's voice wasn't cold, and he didn't chuckle, in fact his expression seemed empty.

Cullen in turn nodded his head in understanding, putting a hand to his chin as he thought. He remembered that gifted apprentice, and the defiant grey warden he became. The teenager, and then the young man who would not be swayed, whom remained sympathetic to Cullen's suffering, perhaps even understood it, yet would not compromise.

"I believe that so long as we do not hurt the innocent, then we will never need to worry about Daylen becoming our enemy," Cullen said.

Durad nodded his head, the smile creeping across it. Cullen left just as the party members arrived, all of them dressed in their casual garbs.

"All right everyone, Lavallan is on a mission to save missing scouts, I think it's time we all get out there and start helping too. Harding reported that there was an oasis that needs investigating, it has some connection to shards found in the Hinterlands. Solas, you take Iron Bull, Sera and Varric there to investigate," Durad explained.

"I believe I should be the one to lead the expedition, not Solas," Cassandra said.

"Of course Cassandra has actual experience in leadership, and if there is magic to be investigated, I believe I would be much better suited than an Apostate," Vivienne explained.

"This is the set up for the mission, neither of you are going, Solas will be leading it, now if there is an actual problem and not just ego, tell me and I will reconsider my choices, but if you simply don't like or trust Solas, keep your opinions to yourself," Durad explained, his voice and eyes stern.

"No problems from me boss," Bull said.

"Me neither, chuckles is the best choice," Varric said.

"Now I wanted each of you to give me your opinion of Daylen Amell," Durad requested.

"I don't know much about him, only that he's some kind of national hero here, there were rumors that the Arishok called him Ashkaari, meaning wise one and Kadan, a term we use to refer to anyone close to us," Bull said.

"He was close to the military leader of the Qunari?" Durad asked.

"The Arishok wasn't the Arishok at the time he knew the hero, there's also a word the Qunari as a whole used for him, though I don't know if it will apply now, Qunoran vehl!"

"One who serves as an example to others."

"I see your parents told you about that one," Bull grinned at Durad, who turned to Sera.

"What you asking me for, I didn't know him, he seemed...nice when I met him, a bit broody, have quite a few friends who got helped by him, never heard anything bad about him, though all that magic...weird," the elf girl shuddered.

"The magic is a defining part of him my dear, it makes him all the more dangerous, he is also dangerously naive too, Durad my dear, he is not the kind of man who, should be trusted with responsibilities, true his good deeds achieve things at the time, but in the future he's only likely to inspire disaster," Vivienne explained, then smirked, earning a glare from both Cassandra and Sera. "I also have it on good authority that Daylen Amell, isn't really an Amell, just a baby the patriarch took pity on!"

"That's bullshit," Varric said.

"What you've said to me Vivienne only makes him more admirable, in the fact that he has earned a name and not simply been given it by another," Durad added.

"True, but he shows no regard for the duty and etiquette that a nobleman should display, he continues to choose to be with rabble like that mercenary band," Vivienne said.

"Be very careful Vivienne, considering you are addressing someone who was once part of a mercenary band, and a commander of one too," Durad said, frowning slightly at Vivienne.

"She's right about the rabble part, but I know a lot of rabble who would fit the term 'noble' better than the ones I've seen," Bull added.

Durad then turned to Varric who was grinning ear to ear.

"I knew his cousin Hawke better than him, from what I heard from Hawke he had been helping people since Ostagar, I heard from his sister he had helped quite a few people at Lothering, pretty much convinced everyone to leave, saved a lot of lives actually," Varric explained. "Marian and Bethany both worshipped him, or at least the memory of him, when Anders joined us they would spend hours talking to him about what he was like at the tower, they met another one of his companions Zevran, spoke to him, and they tried to ask King Alistair about him too. He was their inspiration, and from what I've seen of him he's a great guy, a little broody like Sera said!"

"I know as much as the next person I am afraid, but from what I have seen, I do not believe he is our enemy, if anything I believe he would make an ideal leader for the Inquisition," Cassandra explained.

"Really, why?" Durad asked.

"He is an inspiration and a national hero, he's also a tactician, he believes in the goodness of people, but acts with caution too. Above all he has experience in fighting true evil, and overcoming incredible odds," the seeker explained.

"I've heard enough, Solas," Durad turned to the elf, who remained with his arms crossed and back against the wall.

"During my travels in the fade, I have witnessed many different interpretations of events, yet there is always one primary motivation, one desire, one spirit that flocks to always relive and honour the memory of Daylen Amell," Solas explained.

"What was it?" Durad asked.

"Heroism, the need to be a guardian to others, it's not just kindness the man has, but a drive to be the very embodiment of a protector. It is admirable, but also dangerous, for even the purest hearted creature, can bring forth unparalleled suffering!"

There was that distance in Solas's voice again, that pain, and Durad found himself sympathizing with the elf in ways he hadn't with others before. He looked to the map and placed the markers at the places they would all be going to. A marker was already in the swamplands, and Durad had placed a marker at the hidden oasis, and the Hinterlands, where he would go to find a grey warden, and answers.

* * *

The Hinterlands

At the crossroads, a volunteer at the camp knew much about Blackwall. He led Daylen and his party, consisting of Bevin, Tennax and Amethyne to the house near the lake. Daylen knew of it, he had been there, picking for herbs once. It had also been a place he stashed equipment. Once there, Daylen saw him, or at least who he assumed was Blackwall. He had that air of experience about him, like Duncan had, which in turn made people admire him. But one thing Daylen learnt from Duncan, was that a kind visage, a polite demeanour, and the best of intentions could still hide someone cruel.

"He just wanted to go back to his wife and child, you were threatening to kill him, of course he drew his blade!"

"And don't give me that 'there is no turning back' crap, you could have let him go, if the Wardens are as necessary as you say, someone would understand enough to join us."

That memory still haunted Daylen, the day he stopped admiring Duncan. To this day, he still couldn't respect the man. Blackwall had the similar bushy beard Duncan had. But he was larger, both in weight and height, his hair wasn't tied up and he wore heavier armour. Over his coat of arms he wore a decorated Grey Warden chest plate, a pair of greaves and a black helmet with a nose guard. He stood in front of lightly armoured men, most with wooden shields and axes, cheaply made, unlike the broad sword and shield that Blackwall carried.

"Remember how to carry your shields, you're not hiding, you're holding. Otherwise it's useless," the older man stated, speaking firmly, but fairly to his recruits.

Daylen began walking forward, preparing to speak. But then another voice came out from across the water.

"Blackwall, Warden Blackwall?"

Daylen and Blackwall both looked towards where the voice had come from. Durad stood there with Cassandra and Vivienne, he was dressed in armour no doubt provided for him by the Inquisition.

"You're not...how do you know my name?" Blackwall demanded as he walked over to Durad's group. "Who sent..." suddenly, he raised his shield, stopping an arrow from hitting Durad's head.

It shocked both Durad and his group. They followed the direction the arrow came from and saw them, bandits with bows and axes. Daylen slid his visor over his head and drew his sword, just as Durad took out his bow.

"All right, stay and help or get out, we're dealing with these idiots first," Blackwall said. "Conscripts, hold the formation, draw them to me!"

"Come on, let's help," Daylen said to his party.

Using the arcane warrior magic he had before, Daylen 'shifted' to where the bandits were, flanking them. He charged his sword with fire and cleaved one of the men from the waist. An arrow followed, hitting an archer in the eye. Amethyne knocked back another arrow, but it was Durad's arrow that hit another bandit between the eyes. The bandits stopped, trapped between Durad's group and Daylen's.

"I didn't want this to end in a fight, think about this and stop," Blackwall said.

He sounded firm again, but hardly unreasonable.

"There's only one way this ends bastard," the leader of the bandits said.

"Fine then, you wanted this," Blackwall snarled.

The bandits ran forward, some hitting the recruit's shields, only to be hit by arrows from Amethyne and Durad. Cassandra then came in and drove her sword through the chests of some of the bandits. The last one, fell to Blackwall's blade, falling away from the warden. The group waited, to see if any more would come and attack them. When the coast was clear, they sheathed their swords. Blackwall took off his helmet and looked at one of the dead bandits.

"Sorry bastards," he muttered, shaking his head.

He looked over the body, and Daylen recognized the regret in his eyes. He'd seen it in Loghain and Duncan. Then Blackwall stood and looked at his recruits.

"Good work conscripts, even if this shouldn't have happened they could've...well, thieves are made, not born," he said. "Take back what they stole, go back to your families, you saved yourselves!"

One by one, the villagers left, looks of pride and gratefulness on their faces. Daylen walked up to Blackwall, taking off his own helmet and nodding to Blackwall. The older man studied Daylen's face for a moment, and widened his eyes slightly.

"Your eyes, are you Daylen Amell?" he asked.

"Yes," Daylen said.

Blackwall smiled for a moment, then crossed his arms in the Ferelden salute.

"I'm honoured to meet you, and slightly disturbed too, how are you alive?" Blackwall asked.

"I don't know, but I have some questions of my own, and I think only a grey warden of your experience can help me," Daylen explained.

"I'll help in any way I can, you may not have been a warden long, but your name carries a lot of respect," Blackwall said.

The two Wardens turned to Durad as he walked over with his group.

"You're no farmer, and you're not a warden, how do you know my name?" the older warden asked.

"I'm Durad, the beauties on my flanks are Cassandra and Vivienne," the Qunari gestured to each of his party members. "We know your name because we're agents of the Inquisition, and as dumb luck would have it, we probably want to ask the same questions as Daylen here," he explained.

"We are investigating whether the disappearance of the wardens has anything to do with the murder of the divine," Cassandra explained.

"Maker's balls," Blackwall muttered. "The Wardens and the Divine, that can't...no, you're asking so you don't really know."

"Firstly, I didn't know they disappeared," the older Warden said. "But we do that right? No more Blight, job done, the wardens are the first thing forgotten!"

"Unless you're the paragon of virtue standing next to you," Durad retorted.

"He kind of is," Bevin said proudly.

"Yeah," Amethyne nodded her head.

Durad's eyebrows twitched, annoyed that his attempt at a jab hadn't actually worked. He also took note of how devoted Bevin and Amethyne seemed, though the dual wielding elf didn't jump to Daylen's defence.

"But one thing I will tell you, no Warden killed the divine, our purpose isn't political," Blackwall said.

"I'm not here to accuse I just need information. We've only found you, where are the rest?" Durad asked.

"I haven't seen any Wardens for months, I travel alone, recruiting," Blackwall said.

Durad nodded his head, seeing the sense in it. Duncan often travelled alone on his recruitment missions, and he was the warden commander.

"Not much interest because the Archdemon is a decade dead, and no need to conscript because there's no Blight coming. Treaties give wardens the right to take what they need, who we need, these idiots forced this fight, so I 'conscripted' their victims. They had to do what I said, so I told them to stand, next time they won't need me," Blackwall explained.

"That's like what you did for us Daylen," Bevin said.

"Grey wardens can inspire, make you better than you think you are," Blackwall added, and both Bevin and Amethyne nodded their heads.

Hesitantly, Tennax nodded his head too. Daylen looked at Blackwall with a new found respect. He'd helped the villagers purely out of the kindness of his heart, something he knew Duncan wouldn't have done. As much as Duncan would have regretted what was happening, he wouldn't have allowed the men to leave.

"I didn't know wardens could take what they want," Durad said.

"It's complicated, if there's a blight everyone has to help the effort to fight it, the treaties are ancient," Blackwall stated. "Outside of the blight, they're as binding as a clever tongue can make them."

"The treaties are also as binding as people in charge allow them to be, I wasn't able to get the armies of the dwarves until a king was chosen to agree to my terms. Then there was Loghain's conscription, which I doubt I could have made possible without Anora being the Queen," Daylen explained.

"He's right of course, both circumstance and character can decide whether or not our treaties can achieve the intended results," Blackwall said.

"Do you have any idea where the other Wardens could have gone?" Bevin asked.

"Maybe they returned to our stronghold at Weisshaupt, it's in the Anderfels, a long way north. I know as much as Daylen would, I can't even imagine why they'd all disappear at once, let alone where they'd disappear to," Blackwall explained.

"So you haven't felt it?" Daylen asked.

"Felt what?"

Daylen lowered his head and shook it. Noticing the pain in his eyes, Amethyne touched his shoulder and smiled.

"It was worth a shot," she said.

"What's going on?" Durad asked.

"I'm starting to experience the calling," Daylen said.

Blackwall widened his eyes slightly, turning his full attention to Daylen.

"What makes you say this?" he asked.

"Last night I sensed Darkspawn, but they weren't anywhere to be seen. The band searched every inch of the area surrounding out camp but they found nothing. Before, during the Blight, every time I felt that sensation, Darkspawn appeared, but even now I can sense them, but there's nothing here," Daylen explained.

"What is the calling exactly?" Durad asked.

"The time we reach the end of our lives, when the taint within us begins to catch up," Daylen said.

"Which in your case it shouldn't do for another twenty years," Blackwall said.

"Maybe those wardens who disappeared, went on their callings, the wardens in Amaranthine haven't left right, so maybe this is only affecting a certain amount of wardens," Daylen explained.

"Could it be connected to the breach?" Tennax asked.

"I think it's a little too coincidental for it not to be connected to the breach," Durad said.

"You're right," Daylen nodded his head in agreement.

"So you acknowledge your order could have had something to do with the Divine's death?" Vivienne asked.

"I don't know, right now we have to go out there and look for answers, and protect people," Daylen said.

"And gather people, there was a nobleman who lost his lover, I informed him of the poor girl's death and now he's pledged his surface to the Inquisition. That horse master will now work for us, thanks to Vivienne appealing to his pride, I also have the blades of Hessarian, a nobleman who owes me a favor and Josephine is negotiating with the ruler of Serault," Durad explained.

Daylen seemed to care little for Durad's list of resources.

"We are growing stronger Daylen, and we can only afford to waste so much time in the Hinterlands," he said.

"Then clearly I won't have to worry about anywhere else then," Daylen said.

"Things may be happening here, but things are also happening outside of Ferelden. The answer to what happened to the divine, and the power needed to close the breach isn't here," Durad said.

"Why is the fact that I don't trust the Inquisition so hard for you to accept? This is an organization born from the chantry, an organization that claims one thing, but repeatedly demonstrates the opposite. There doesn't seem to be any clear leader, and what is the goal? When the Blight hit, we knew what the end result had to be, it was just how we would get to that result that was the problem. Now, as well as people arguing about how you get there, you're going to have people arguing about what you should do when you are there."

"What should you, what will you do when you have found and punished the people responsible for the Breach? What kind of world will you create once you've stopped the Templars, will you give more power to the Templars? Or will you further mistreat the mages? Or will you simply restore the old system, and then an age, a decade, year, month, maybe even a week or a day later, the same conflicts may occur again."

"You talk about all this power you're gaining, but all that power won't matter unless everyone can understand how things need to be after all this is over. As your numbers grow, the number of opposing ideals and views will increase as well. Ultimately you may stop all of this, but afterwards the Inquisition might tear itself apart because people cannot agree, or continue arguing about what happens afterwards!"

As Daylen finished his speech, Durad put a hand to his head and chuckled.

"Yeah, we have quite a few people arguing now, good point there. Let me ask you something else, are you afraid of what the Inquisition can do?" he asked.

"I'm afraid of what it might become," Daylen said.

"Then join us, keep us from becoming that," Durad said.

"I can't make the difference like that, this, it's bigger than a Landsmeet," Daylen retorted.

Durad closed his eyes and nodded.

"Okay, I can respect that, here how we'll do things then. For now, we'll take care of things outside of the Hinterlands, we probably have enough power to meet with the Templar leadership. You know where the rogue Templars and mages are based right?" Durad asked.

"Yeah," Daylen nodded his head.

"Then I'll have Cullen send some men, I'll even have some of my companions help in stopping the rogues and the bandits. After they're taken care of, you can meet with the mages in Redcliffe. Right now the Inquisition is the best choice to take care of the Templars, whilst you are the best choice to save Redcliffe...again," Durad chuckled.

The slither of a smile crossed Daylen's face, as he again nodded to Durad. Blackwall looked between both men, and then turned to Durad. The Inquisition members began to walk away.

"Wait, Durad did you say? Hold on a moment," Blackwall walked after them, stopping near Durad. "The Divine is dead and the sky is torn, events like these, thinking we're absent is almost as bad as thinking we're involved," he explained.

Durad nodded his head in agreement.

"If you're trying to put things right, maybe you need a warden, and a link to Daylen's group, maybe you need me," he said.

"The Inquisition needs all the support it can get, but what can one Grey Warden do?" Durad asked.

Blackwall remained silent, looking to Daylen, who smirked.

"Save the fucking world if pressed," they both said.

Durad tipped his head back and laughed, Blackwall already gave him a reason to like him, and Daylen had a better sense of humor than he thought.

"Look maybe fighting demons from the sky isn't something I'm practiced at, but show me someone who is. And like I said there are treaties, maybe this isn't a blight but its bloody well a disaster, some will honor them. Being a warden means something to a lot of people," Blackwall explained.

'Not all good things,' Daylen thought.

"Warden Blackwall, the Inquisition accepts your offer," Durad said.

"Good to hear, we all need to know what's going on, and perhaps I've kept to myself for too long," Blackwall said. "This Warden walks with the Inquisition."

He then turned to Daylen, bowing his head in respect.

"I'll find out what I can with the Inquisition, you do some of your own digging," he said.

He winked, making the younger warriors blink in confusion. Daylen however nodded his head in understanding. Durad tipped his head slightly to Daylen, before he and his companions walked away. Once they were out of sight, Daylen's companions looked at him.

"What does he mean, do some digging?" Bevin asked.

Daylen looked away from where the Inquisition went, and at the nearby caves.

"We're going into the deep roads!"

Next Chapter 13: Kindness of strangers finale

* * *

Hope everyone enjoyed the chapter, the parties are almost complete. Next time we go to Lavellan as she and Inquisition operatives wade through an Undead infested swamp, Daylen goes to the deep roads, and encounters something he never thought was possible.


End file.
